


My First Steps Were Towards You And You Left Me

by o0kaymawn0o



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Sam, Dominant Dean, Flashbacks, Hurt Sam Winchester, Incest, Jealous Sam Winchester, M/M, Possessive Dean Winchester, Secrets, Sexual Content, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-01-15 15:44:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 27,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1310245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o0kaymawn0o/pseuds/o0kaymawn0o
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam hasn't seen Dean since he was twelve. Dean just up and left years ago, with not enough of an explanation, other than he couldn't fulfill his ambitions here. Eight years later and Sam has to go and live with him. He's not too happy about it, but his Dad deserved a break, so he's gonna take it all with a pinch of salt and just avoid his brother for as long as he can. How will that work out for Sam? Is there a reason Dean left all those years ago? How will they get on now that they haven't seen each other in eights years? And what secrets is Dean keeping from Sam?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All For John

John Winchester was full of regret. He didn’t want to see his son go, but this opportunity was too good to pass up, and it wasn’t like he would be leaving Sam on his own. He’d be staying with his brother, Dean, who he hadn’t seen since he was twelve, for reasons John didn’t quite understand. Dean had announced that he had ambition for something in his life, and he had to leave here if he was ever going to achieve his goals.

John was proud of Dean for all of his success over the past few years, but he was still pissed off that his oldest left them without so much as a backward glance.

In fact, yesterday was the first time he had spoken to his son since the day he left. John wanted to call him all the time, to ask how he was doing—to see if he missed him and Sam. His pride had gotten in the way.

He had to call him. Sam didn’t have any family elsewhere. Dean had been very reluctant on the phone. So reluctant that John was willing to turn down the offer of a lifetime presented to him. Finally, however, Dean relented, giving John his location, and what time would be best to drop Sam off.

First of all, he had to tell Sam that he would be staying with his brother from now on. Sam had stopped asking about Dean by the time he was fourteen, so John didn’t see the conversation playing out too well for him.

He had to do this for himself, though.

Sam was old enough to make his own decisions, so he could find his own place to live if he didn’t want to live with Dean. It made no difference to John. He’d prefer that Sam stayed with someone in the family, so John knew that someone was looking out for him. If push comes to shove, he won’t be able to avoid it.

John was waiting in the living room for Sam to return from a friend’s house. He wasn’t sure how long Sam planned on being there, but it was coming up to the time that Sam usually got home, so John had a pretty good idea.

He had a bottle of whisky with him and a glass as he waited. Just to calm his nerves. Sam was really good at guilt-tripping. John was more than certain that he got it from his mother, Mary—and the Campbell’s. The stubborn gene was what they would have been best known for, had there been labelled genes for every different family group.

When Sam was eighteen, he asked to go on a holiday with his friends. John had immediately said no. He wanted Sam to be with him, so he would always know he was safe. Sam somehow managed to convince him to say yes. He couldn’t quite remember how. His youngest son was slippery that way.

John’s head lifted when he heard a key going into the lock. He waited in anticipation for Sam to come through the door, refilling his glass of whiskey, while listening out for any unwanted company dragging their asses along with Sam.

The lock turned and Sam pushed the door open, waltzing in with a couple of bags gripped between his fingers. John briefly wondered what was in the bag. His wonders ceased when Sam made for the kitchen, not bothering to check the living room first like he usually did.

John heaved a sigh, pulling himself from the couch. He called his sons name, as he followed him down the hallway. Sam craned his neck in acknowledgement.

“I need to talk to you,” John said, allowing Sam to lead him into the kitchen.

“About what?” Sam replied, taking a few items from the bag. John assumed he would be making something to eat, since most of the contents was food.

The older man took a seat at the table, advising Sam to do the same. Baffled by the unusual actions of his father, Sam accepted the invitation, his eyebrows coming to life when John placed his hand over his.

“Um,” Sam mumbled.

To his son’s disbelief, John soothed his thumb over Sam’s hand. “Sammy, I’ve been given an opportunity of a lifetime, and it requires me to move away from here. I’ve made arrangements with your brother for you to move in with him,” he announced, hushing his son when he started yelling at the mention of Dean. “It’s okay. You don’t have to live with him if you don’t want to—you can get your own place, but I am taking this offer, Sammy. Regardless of how you feel.”

“And I want you to,” Sam admitted.

John brings Sam’s hand closer. “I’d prefer it if you live with your brother, Sam. At least that way I know you have someone looking out for you.”

Sam laughs sarcastically. “Looking out for me? Really, Dad? Dean hasn’t been there for us since I was in the sixth grade. He just up and left us. So, sorry if I find that hard to believe.” They both see hurt in each other’s eyes. They feel the same way about Dean leaving them. Family is family, and Dean was the only family Sam would have left when his Dad leaves.

“Like I said before, you can get a place of your own. I’d just prefer it if you were with Dean.”

“I know, Dad,” Sam mutters, taking his hand back.

John missed the closeness, but lets it go. He was never touchy to begin with. Only Sam brought out this side of him.

“Dean has great connections as well. He can get you in a really good university, if that’s what you still want to do? And he has friends in high places, if you just wanted to work?”

Honestly, Sam appreciated how much his father was trying to sell Dean to him. How much he wanted Sam to be at least happy with this decision. Sam wasn’t pleased. That was it. He didn’t want to live with Dean. He didn’t even want to see Dean. He left him astray. Sam didn’t remember doing anything wrong at the time. As far as he knew, they had a pretty good brotherly bond, which he cherished—even if Dean didn’t.

Sam would live with him. Not because he wanted to. Not because Dean was there. His father deserved this break, and Sam was going to make it easy for him. If he wanted Sam to live with his big brother to give him peace of mind, he would.

All for his father.

Not for himself.

And especially not for Dean.


	2. Knocking On The Devils Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam arrives at Dean's. He's surprised by what he sees.

The gentle purr of the car’s engine did nothing to calm Sam down. Every step of the journey, he’d been on edge. John knew that his son didn’t want to be here, even more that he definitely didn’t want to get out of the car. He also knew that Sam was going to because he made a promise, and Winchester’s do not break their promises.

Sam’s hand stayed on the handle, unmoving. It didn’t wish to pull down as much as Sam. Deep down, he resigned himself to his fate of having to live with his brother. That pit was never paid much attention. On the surface, he just couldn’t stand the idea of seeing his face. Dean must have changed quite a lot by now. It’s been years, and Sam hadn’t seen any photos of him.

He didn’t want to look at his face, remember?

Swallowing his Winchester pride, Sam pulled down the handle and got out of the car. He closed the door behind him, immediately leaning in through window.

John Winchester locked eyes with his son, conveying a message that both of them understood. His eyes said that it wasn’t goodbye, and he would see him again. Sam tore his eyes away and waved his father off, knowing that if he had kept up that stare, he would have pleaded for John to just take him with him to wherever he had to go.

Turning on his heel, Sam gave the outskirts of the house a onceover. It was a nice house. Sam had to admit that—Dean did well for himself. He didn’t pay much attention to the exterior, as he travelled up the path, just now remembering that John took his suitcase to the door for him, as he wanted to see Dean quickly before leaving.

Sam was fine with that. It meant that he didn’t have to lay eyes on him first. During the exchange, Sam couldn’t see his brother from the car, but John mentioned that he looked a lot different, and that Dean was very grown up.

Sam didn’t care. He wasn’t planning on spending any time getting to know him. He’d find his room and stay there until dinner, do whatever he had to do throughout the day and all that jazz. Then he’d repeat the same thing for the rest of his time here. He really hoped that it wasn’t long.

Deciding that standing outside the house wasn’t getting him anywhere, Sam knocked on the door. He expected an older looking version of his brother to answer the door. What he didn’t expect was a boy no older than four staring up at him in wonder.

“Can I help you?” he asked politely. Sam wasn’t sure how to react. He was too busy freaking out about the possibility that his brother might have a child. He never would have pegged his brother to be the fatherly type. Sam remembered his brother being the type of guy that would sleep with a woman and never call her again. There had to be some special lady to get Dean to settle down. For some reason that irked Sam. He couldn’t bring himself to care about that at the moment.

Putting on a fake smile, Sam crouched down, so he didn’t look like a tower to the small child. “Hey, I’m Sam. Is Dean in?” The kid nodded his head, opened the door and let Sam into the house.

Sam tried to ignore the flash of recognition in the child’s eyes and followed him inside. The boy led him to the kitchen, where a woman with long black hair was sitting at the kitchen table, eating a well-cooked dinner, from the look of things.

She smiled at the child as he entered, gesturing him over for a hug. Once that was done, she moved her attention to the tall man standing in the doorway, like he was waiting for someone to pinch him and wake him up from a nightmare.

“You must be Sam, right?” she assessed, looking him over casually. He didn’t feel uncomfortable under her scrutiny, but he did wonder how she knew his name. As if sensing his thoughts, she filled him in. “I’m Lisa, and this is my son, Ben.”

Ben waved to him at Lisa’s encouragement.

Sam returned it uneasily.

“What magic did you use to get my brother to settle down?” he joked, but he was sort of serious at the same time.

She grinned in humor. “To be honest, I don’t know. I met him a long time ago, and when I found out I was pregnant with Ben, he became a whole different person. He’s a great father, and we’ve been together ever since.”

He felt sick. Unbeknownst to why, he didn’t want to hear this. Right now, he just wanted to find his room and sleep. So, he asked for directions. When she questioned if he wanted to see his brother first, his reply was instant. She respected his decision and told him that his room was second on the right, and that everything had been set out for him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

Sam left the kitchen, on-route to find his room. He heard her say that his stuff had been taken to his room earlier, if he was wondering where it was. He thanked her for that, too, then went on his way—not offering a look back.

Paying no mind to the interior of the house either, Sam found the stairs and started up them. He got to the top, located where his room was and headed for it. Just as he was passing the first door on his right, the one on the left opened.

He turned his head for a second, the sound instantly attracting his attention. When he saw that it was Dean, he paused. So did the older man. They stood there for a few seconds just observing each other. They could both see that they were nothing like they used to be.

Dean had to look up to see the rest of his ‘little’ brother. He couldn’t believe that the man in front of him was Sam, and vice-versa. Sam used to be so small. Now he had at least five inches on Dean.

The man wasn’t sure if he was happy about that fact, but he had no time to think about it because Sam was already walking away, without even saying so much as a word to him.

He felt the need to stomp his foot like a brat, but he stopped himself.

“Sam,” he called gruffly.

Sam’s shoulders tensed and his whole body stood rigid. Taking his time, Dean moved in front, attempting to make eye contact with his so clearly pissed off younger brother.

“What, you’re not even gonna say hi to your brother?”

He said nothing. Just stared at those luminous green eyes that he remembered so vividly after all this time. Dean was a different person. He was a man. He had a job. He had a family. He might even be married for all Sam knew. He chanced a glance at Dean’s wedding finger, and found himself almost sighing in relief when he saw that it was just skin that met him. No expensive ring that would put a normal person in a one-bedroom apartment building, as money meant everything these days when it came to marriage. If the ring wasn’t expensive, it wasn’t good enough.

“Sam, I’m happy for you to stay here and be a brat, but you know that I don’t like to be ignored.”

Again, Sam didn’t react. Stared consistently, but did not react.

Dean started to feel awkward. He loosened the tie he was wearing, having not got in from work too long ago. It was suddenly hotter than it was five minutes ago, as well. He was nervous, to say the least. He had been since John called him and asked this big ass favor. Dean wasn’t stupid. He figured that Sam wouldn’t want anything to do with him, due to him leaving the kid at such a young age—an age that he would never understand the true reason he left in the first place.

That didn’t matter anymore, though.

“Have you met Lisa and Ben?”

Sam could only nod his head. His jaw went tight at the mention of Lisa, and he could feel the rest of his body tensing up. He wanted to get out of here. He wanted to go anywhere where Dean wasn’t.

The urge to give Sam a hug was strong. So strong that it took Dean folding his arms to prevent himself from doing so. At this point, he could only see Sam tensing up and pushing him away, so there was no reason to even entertain the notion.

Giving up for the time being, Dean told Sam that his dinner was in the oven—bottom draw whenever he wanted it. He revealed where everything was, the bathroom and anything else Sam might use while he was here.

Before he let Sam go to his room, he placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s good to see you, Sam.”

His hand slipped from Sam’s tightened shoulders, falling limp. He watched Sam close the door to his new room, a sad expression coming over his face. A very small part of him had been hopeful that Sam would have been happy to see him, but he guessed he was wrong.

Letting it go, Dean moved down the stairs to the kitchen, where Lisa and Ben were eating their dinner. Lisa was almost finished with hers, and Ben was making faces with the food he had left.

“Don’t play with your food, Ben,” Dean admonished lightheartedly, placing a kiss on Lisa’s cheek and running his hand across Ben’s head.

He took his own seat at the table, thinking about what a first impression Sam must have made on his son and girlfriend.

Apparently, he didn’t have to ask to get the intel.

“You were right about Sam. He didn’t even want to see you before he went to his room. I understand, but you’re still brothers,” she said, and removed Ben’s hands from his food, placing his knife and fork in them instead.

“He’s tall!” Ben exclaimed, smiling up at Dean as he demonstrated just how tall Sam was, making him out to be as big as a giraffe.

Dean and Lisa both laughed at his observation, before the blonde’s face went solemn. On cue, Lisa requested Ben go play in the living room. It was his bedtime soon, but she needed to talk with Dean about that look.

Ben complied, proudly announcing that he was going to watch Power Rangers on the TV. Dean offered a grin and a high-five as the boy left the room.

Lisa turned to Dean. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

He wanted to say no, but he knew he could talk to Lisa about everything. “He didn’t even speak to me-“

“You saw each other?” she interrupted, apologizing afterwards.

Dean sighed. “That’s okay. Yeah, we just kind of looked at each other. And Ben’s right, he has gotten really tall. He’s taller than me now. It felt so good to see him again, but all he could do was nod at whatever I had to say.”

Her face revealed she was there to listen, so he carried on. “I expected this to happen. I thought I was prepared for it. But experiencing the rejection is a lot more intense than just playing the scenario out in your head, y’know?”

She understood completely.

“How am I gonna get him to trust me again? I don’t even think it’s possible. He looked at me like I was invisible. But I could see the fucking hurt in his eyes, and-“

Shamefully, he leaned on his fist. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to curse. I just don’t know what to do.”

“What do you want to do?” she offered.

A few thoughts flittered around in his mind, but he had no idea which of them would actually work or do anything good.

He suddenly smirked. “I can charm a girl into bed easily, but I can’t even charm my brother into having a conversation with me.”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “You could do that four years ago, hotshot.”

He leaned in and teased her neck. “Well, then let’s see if I can take back my winning streak.”

* * *

 

Sam heard laughing outside his room and groaned. They had just put Ben to bed, and now they were giggling like high school kids on prom night. He hadn’t been able to sleep the second his head hit the pillow, which had been thoroughly disappointing.

Now he had to deal with this.

“Shush,” Lisa hushed, followed by the sound of a door opening.

“You shush,” Dean replied, most likely kissing her. Sam could hear the melding of lips, and the odd slapping noise.

He shuddered. He was not going to listen to his brother have sex. _Not with her_. Not while he was two rooms away. Not while he had noise-cancelling headphones.

Sam reached for the little miracle, placing it over his head. He tried to smile that he could no longer hear them. All he felt was empty. And sick.

_Hurt, mostly._

Why did he feel this way? What was he not getting? Why the fuck did he have to be here? Why couldn’t John have just taken him with him? Life would have been so much easier!

Sam fell back on his pillow and bit back a groan of frustration. He rolled over onto his side and thought about his friends from back at his real home. He thought about the times they would hang out and do anything that popped into their minds. He thought about the moments leading up to Dean walking out on them, up until the door closed and he watched him get into his car from the window. _He thought about how much he cried that night._

He thought about that before he went to sleep every night.

He wondered why it made him cry tonight.

 

 

 


	3. Stepping Stones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean rudely wakes Sam up. Sam still isn't talking to him. There's tension at the kitchen table.

Sam started awake when his headphones were ripped from him. He jumped up and glared at his brother, who was the culprit behind his rude awakening. He prepared himself to cuss the man out, but stopped when he figured that might give Dean some sense of victory—if Sam actually said a word to him.

“Mornin’, sunshine, meet any rainbows today?” Dean muttered dryly, dropping Sam’s headphones on the bed. He had planned to come in and invite the guy down for breakfast nicely. After yelling at him to wake up for the past five minutes, he eventually got tired of waiting.

One could have only have so much patience.

Sam felt the need to clarify that Dean was the reason he was wearing the things in the first place, but thought better of it.

Instead, he coldly glanced at him as he walked out of the room, not checking to see if the older man followed after him. He was hungry. He needed food. He hoped that dinner Dean mentioned last night was still in the oven.

“I threw that out. You can’t eat it now. Have some breakfast instead, Sam,” Dean advised, reading Sam’s mind and passed Sam on the stairs, speeding up on the way down.

Sam flipped him the bird when he was no longer in sight. He couldn’t believe how clueless Dean was being. How could he act so calmly when he knew damn well Sam wanted answers, or an offer for him to punch Dean multiple times?—either would have done, if you asked him.

This was ridiculous. Childish, even—the whole ignoring Dean’s every word and not offering a single one in return. It was all he could think of to do. He didn’t want to say anything to Dean, so ignoring him was the only option.

When he eventually arrived at the kitchen, Lisa was setting up the table. She noticed him enter and asked him how he was this morning.

“Lousy,” he answered honestly, throwing himself into a chair.

“How come?” she wondered, with an etch of concern in her voice.

Sam didn’t need her sympathy. She was part of the reason he was pissed off in the first place. After mentally arguing with himself about the reason why, he half-agreed that it was because sex is a two-way street, so she was as much to blame for Sam’s annoyance as his inconsiderate brother.

“Reasons I’d rather not say with a child in the room,” he mumbled, eyeing the kid.

Lisa blushed, getting the message through that alone. She hadn’t thought that they had been loud. They were laughing in the hallway for quite some time, but Sam shouldn’t have been able to hear them from his room…

She would ask, but Ben was sat at the table eating his cereal, so she’d save it for later. Ben most likely wouldn’t understand the exchange to begin with, but she was trying to make a good impression. She knew she was a good mother, and for some reason she wanted Sam to know she was, regardless of his problems with his brother.

Dean was listening to Lisa and Sam as he fried some eggs. He felt kind of jealous that Sam spoke to Lisa, but not to him. His voice was a lot deeper. He had matured so much over the past eight years. Dean hadn’t had the luxury of hearing Sam’s voice yesterday, as the mute didn’t say a word to him—not even a sound.

He recalled John warning him that it was going to take a lot of time for him to rebuild anything with Sam. It upset him, sure. He never wanted to hurt Sam. But he had to get away. For himself, and for his brother.

Just because he left, it didn’t mean that he didn’t still care about Sam. He thought about him all the time. Sam was a big part of his thought process. Sometimes, he’d sit there for hours talking about the adventures they went on when they were little and still full of innocence. Lisa would listen to him with intrigue, prompting him to continue whenever he paused for a long time.

It was painful to think about Sam.

Thinking about Sam meant thinking about _that,_ and he never wanted to think of that.

Lisa was the reason _that_ wasn’t the focus of his life. Lisa and Ben kept him in a good place, and he liked that place. It comforted him. Made him feel like he wasn’t alone in this world and there was some chance for him.

“There are some good universities here. If you want, I can take you around and show you some?” Lisa offered genuinely, smiling warmly at the younger Winchester.

“What are you, his mother?” Dean joked, placing a plate of fried eggs and bacon on the table—one for Sam and one for Lisa. Ben wasn’t ready for the experience that is bacon yet, so he only got to eat his cereal, while the adults indulged on one of the finest things to grace mankind.

Sam would have said thank you, had anyone else made him breakfast.

“Thanks for the offer, Lisa, but I’d prefer to look around them myself, if that’s okay,” he replied eventually, eyeing her.

She picked her fork up from the side of the plate, digging it into the egg. Dean finished frying up his own food and set his down next to Lisa, immediately stuffing a strip of bacon into his mouth.

When Dean started talking with his mouth full of food, a sense of nostalgia washed over the brunet. Some things never changed, he guessed. Dean was still a messy eater. He assumed that Lisa must have gotten tired of telling him to swallow before he spoke because she didn’t bat an eyelid.

Sam remembered how Dean used to open his mouth and show what was in there, then grin. Sam used to look away in disgust at the scene, calling his brother an animal or something. Now he kind of wished Dean would, so he could see more of his brother for what he was back then, and not this family man that he’d become.  

“No work today, Dean?” Lisa questioned, enjoying her food.

“Not today I don’t. Gonna spend this day rekindling my relationship with my mute brother over there,” he stated, stabbing a knife in Sam’s direction, who glared at the action. Dean told him to relax and moved the knife away.

Lisa lightly scolded him for it, but ultimately she was happy that Dean was going to commit an entire day to getting his brother to be happy with this.

Sam _really_ wanted to spit a snarky retort. If he did, Dean would be getting what he wanted. And the man did not deserve what he wanted. Not in his eyes. So he just kept his mouth shut, finished his breakfast, and immediately made a break for it afterwards.

Clearly, Dean meant it when he confidently declared he’d repair their relationship, as he asked Lisa to finish up and get Ben to school, while he dealt with Mr. Grumpy Pants.

Ben laughed at the way he described Sam, which put a smile on the older Winchester’s face.

Dutifully, Lisa complied, and watched Dean chase after the brooding brunet. She couldn’t help feeling that the age difference between the two men was starting to show. She also couldn’t help thinking that Sam was acting like Dean had broken up with him.

 

 

 

 


	4. We Were Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean tells Sam that he left for himself.

Sam ignored every call of his name. He didn’t want to turn around. He didn’t want to see his face. There was nothing he wanted to talk about right now. When was Dean going to get that through his thick skull? Sam was here temporarily. He had no intentions of over staying his welcome here.

He made it as far as the stairs before Dean forcefully turned him and dug his fingers into the brunette’s shoulders.

Enough was enough. Sam was going to listen to him whether he liked to or not. Whether he wanted to say anything, he had no choice. Dean was going to beat it out of the guy if he had to. This was ridiculous.

They were brothers, not enemies.

Sam glared harshly at his brother, not appreciating Dean’s fingertips forming bruises on his shoulders. He tried to pry away, but Dean held him in place. When Sam attempted to kick his shin, Dean dodged and slammed him up against the wall.

The younger man released a groan of pain, instantly reaching for the blonde’s wrists to pull Dean’s hands off him.

“Sam, would you stop struggling and being a bitch for two minutes so we can talk, please?”

He felt odd that Dean was asking him nicely, considering the position they were currently in.

Sam only glared harder in response, his breaths coming out faster. He stopped trying to get out of the grip, though—much to Dean’s happiness.

When he was sure that Sam wasn’t going to make a run for it, he loosened his grip, let go and directed Sam to the sofa. The larger man took a seat, his eyes mistrustful. Dean fell on to the sofa, releasing a pent-up sigh.

“I know you have questions, Sam—things you want to ask me about that night.”

Sam’s eyes widened, in intrigue and apprehension. For the first time in a long time, he finally felt like he was going to get what he wanted—a reason for Dean leaving all those years ago.

This was his chance, and he would not let Dean stop there.

Dean dragged a hand down his face. “As cliché as it sounds right now, it wasn’t your fault. I want you to know that. I left for me. Not because of you or Dad. I had to get out of there, Sam. You have to understand that!” He felt on edge just thinking about that day.

What the hell did Dean mean by that? They were all fine a few days before he left them! Everything was great. They’d go to the theater. They’d watch funny videos online together. They’d even do their homework—Sam helping Dean on a few things that he got stuck on. It should have been the other way around, but Sam had more of a knack for the academic side, while Dean was better at sports and such other things.

It didn’t make any sense.

Everything had been perfect. _Dean_ was perfect.

 _They_ were perfect.


	5. You Made Me Feel Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam remember the day before Dean left.

Sixteen year old Dean had been sat on the couch, reading through a car magazine, appreciating the wonderful designs displayed on the page. He dropped it when he heard Sam come through the front door, slamming it behind him. Dean could tell straight away that something was up, and he waited for Sam to storm into the living room, a brooding look on his youthful face.

He didn’t have to wait long for the inevitable.

Sam appeared at the doorway, an expression of upset on his features. He threw his book-bag to the side of him, staring with need at his older brother.

Dean knew what his brother wanted. He gestured him over with a roll of his eyes, and Sam ambled over instantly, settling on top of Dean’s lap, burying his head in the young adults’ chest—breathing in the protective scent that was his older brother.

He felt safe with Dean, every second he was in his company. Dean was like a shield, and a cure for all of his problems. All he needed to feel better were those big, strong arms wrapped tightly around his body, keeping away all the threats in his life.

He didn’t need anyone else. Not when Dean was around. The blonde was his everything, and he wouldn’t give him up for the world—not even for world peace.

A world without Dean wouldn’t be peaceful at all.

Dean coddled him, laying affectionate kisses on the top of his head. Sam enjoyed those kisses. They made him feel special. He knew that Dean didn’t do anything of this caliber with any of his girlfriends. He reserved this side of himself only for Sam.

The older Winchester soothed his hand along Sam’s back, holding him closer. Sam tried not to wriggle from the action, as Dean mentioned that he’d prefer Sam just sit still whenever he was on his lap. He finished with a _that would be great,_ and the brunette was careful not to ever do the same thing again.

Something about Dean’s hands stroking his back made him not want to sit still. However, he also didn’t want Dean to stop the action, so he controlled himself whenever they were in this position to the best of his abilities.

That was something the _developing_ Dean was grateful for. He never told Sam why he shouldn’t wriggle, but he was confident Sam would steer clear for the future.

Sam nestled his head further on Dean’s chest, bringing his arms around Dean’s sides and hugged him tighter.

Dean smiled despite himself, hiking Sam up a little further, as he had been starting to slip. The boy became a deadweight whenever he cuddled Dean. The teenager didn’t mind. Sam wasn’t that heavy, so it never was a problem.

After several minutes of sitting on the sofa, wrapped in each other’s arms, Dean asked Sam what had him so upset.

Stunning hazel eyes stared up at him, a shimmer of pain at the memory temporarily dragging the innocence away from their depths.

Dean pushed himself to remain calm.

“It was just these guys at school. They-“

“What guys?” Dean cut him off.

Sam felt his brother tense under him, and sensed the anger radiating off him. “It’s okay, Dean, they just pushed me around a little. It’s not a big deal anymore!” He wanted Dean to see that he didn’t have to get violent. His brother didn’t have to hurt anyone because of him.

Somewhere he knew that would be a losing battle. The malevolence that circled those intense green orbs had spoken of nothing but pure vengeance and pain.

“Who did it?” he demanded, done playing nice.

Sam pleaded with him to just let this go. Dean wasn’t exactly a stick insect—he packed a punch, and those guys would end up in the hospital if he didn’t stop Dean from attacking them.

“Let it go, Dean. I’m fine!”

Dean gently moved Sam off him, heading for his jacket and his car keys. He’d show those dicks what happened when you mess with Dean Winchester’s baby brother.

“If you won’t tell me, I’ll find them myself, Sammy. Your choice.”

This wasn’t what he wanted! None of it. He just wanted to lie there in Dean’s arms and maybe nap for a little while. He didn’t want Dean to get himself in trouble because he was too weak to look after himself.

After waiting several seconds for an answer, Dean shrugged his shoulders, snatched his jacket off the rack and said he’d be back soon.

“No, stop!” Sam screamed.

Dean whirled on his little brother, his eyes hot and heavy. “They’re not gonna get away with this shit, Sammy. Not while I’m around. I’m gonna give them what they deserve and make sure they never lay a hand on you again,” he snapped and fished around for his keys. When he’d found them, he headed for the door.

“Dean, please? Don’t do this! They aren’t worth it!” Sam begged, following after his brother. Dean didn’t stop. He had only one thing in mind, and that was beating the shit out of those assholes that thought they could lay a hand on Sammy and not have their faces kicked in.

Not going to happen.

Feeling like he was fighting a losing battle, Sam did the only thing that he could think of. He draped his arms around Dean, closing his hands at his navel, locking himself against the older Winchester.

Dean stilled himself. If he’d wanted to, he could’ve dragged Sam along with him. But he didn’t. He stopped in his tracks, peering down at Sam’s forehead pressed against the small of his back.

Sam had fallen to his knees when he dived to grab his brother. He’d felt this way he’d have more of a shot at making Dean reconsider.

“Sammy, let go,” he commanded weakly.

The boy shook his head, still against the teenager.

Dean sighed and called Sam a real pain. The brunette didn’t react, just tightened his grip.

“Okay, fine. You win. But if those dicks ever come near you again, I swear to God I will kill them—you understand?”

Sam nodded in very much the same way, never relenting on his hold for a second. Rolling his eyes, Dean pried Sam’s hands apart and turned around. He gathered his hands under Sam’s arms and hauled him up, placing one hand under his bottom, and the other against his neck, as if Sam were a baby.

Sam instinctively locked his legs around Dean’s waist and rested his head on the crook of Dean’s shoulder.

He was still angry that Sam didn’t want him to put those kids in the hospital, but he hated to see Sam upset even more. Yawning, Dean walked them over to the couch and resumed their earlier position.

They fell asleep a few minutes later—Sam to the rise and fall of Dean’s chest, and Dean to the scent that is his little brother, so very calming to him.

Neither of them had woken to the sound of the door opening and closing. And neither of them saw the expression of pure happiness and pride on John Winchester’s face when he witnessed the sight before him after a hard day at work.

 

 


	6. I Saw Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam speaks to Dean, and gets an answer to the question that's been going through his head since he was twelve.

Sam cherished that memory. After Dean left them, he couldn’t get close to anyone. He shied away from hugs—any form of affection had made him feel uneasy. Some people had tried to get him to open up to them. They’d place their hand on his shoulder, as if they were offering support, but he would brush them off.

Ask for them to just leave it.

Dean had been the last person the brunette held. He hadn’t wanted to cuddle with anyone else. Dean had been his rock, and without him, Sam had fallen. He was no longer happy and full of life. He hadn’t had a lot of friends until he hit high school and hung out with some guys that had experienced loss.

It had been odd, but they sort of found each other, in a way.

Sam had been drawn to them when he spotted them all on the field. It had been them that approached him, started to talk to him—asking questions they honestly had no business knowing the answers to.

Each one had a story, though, of losing someone. Dean hadn’t died. But a part of Sam did when his older brother left him.

Eventually, Sam admitted that he hadn’t exactly lost someone, however his brother had abandoned him. They were sympathetic, completely understanding of his upset, once he explained their relationship some more—how close they were as brothers.

There had been one guy in particular that Sam felt the most comfortable around. He didn’t know how it happened. There was no way he could have seen it coming a mile off. Nevertheless, it did.

His name was Kayden.

Kayden had stood out the most to Sam, out of their small group. He tried the least to get to know him, and that somehow made Sam pay more attention to him than any of the others. Kayden preferred to sit there and listen than talk about his life.

During a summer break, when Sam was seventeen, his group of friends attended a keg party at some jocks house. It was very cliché, and like everything you would see in a teen romance. There was some guy that was drunker than everyone else, along with some girl that couldn’t handle her alcohol, dancing on the table like it was the last time she would ever dance again. The unpopular guys had managed to sneak in through the back, getting shot down by every girl they went up to. 

Sam’s group hadn’t been unpopular. They were attractive and they didn’t give a shit, so by high school standards, they were high enough on the food chain to get invites to things.

Usually, they would turn the events down because they honestly didn’t want to be around all the douchebag jocks that deserved a punch.

That night, Sam discovered that he was a bit of a lightweight. After a few beers, he was pleasantly buzzed and happy enough to act like an idiot in front of a few people. Everyone spurred him on when he dive-bombed into the pool, surfacing with his hair drenched, and sticking to his face.

Kayden had helped him out of the swimming pool, told him that he had definitely had enough to drink and offered to take him home. Sam listened to him, accepting the terms. They walked out together, letting the others know that they would all meet up tomorrow.

When they were in Kayden’s car, Sam couldn’t stop himself from staring at the guy. He had naturally tanned skin, short, managed hair and light green eyes. They reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t place a face or a name.

As Kayden had started the car up, Sam said it. He had told him that he had nice eyes. Kayden had cleared his throat, turned his head and observed Sam’s features. He had then admitted that he thought Sam’s eyes were nice, too.

Sam blamed his next move on the alcohol. Without even thinking, he had placed his hand on Kayden’s thigh, moving slowly towards his crotch. Kayden’s breath had caught in his throat when Sam cupped him through his jeans, focused solely on his face—a flicker of desire escalating to a burn.

When Kayden realized that Sam wasn’t going to stop what he was doing, and as the brunette was about to reach for his zipper, Kayden grabbed his head and crushed their lips together, penetrating Sam’s mouth instantly, enjoying the taste of beer on the Winchester’s tongue.

The result of that night was Sam losing his virginity to Kayden. It had been an amazing night. He remembered every part of it. From Kayden kissing him as he carried him up the stairs to the slightly older teenager’s bedroom—to the end, where Kayden moaned his name, spilling his load into the condom.

Kayden had tried to spoon him after the event, but Sam asked him if he couldn’t do that. Kayden was understanding. He even apologized for reminding the brunette of Dean.

He missed that guy.

Sam snapped back to reality when Dean clicked his fingers from the other couch, not letting up on the action until he had the younger man’s full attention.

“Welcome back, Princess. Now, would ya’ say somethin’ to me already? I’m getting’ tired of the silent treatment.”

His lips twitched. He didn’t want to talk to Dean—not at all.

But, he guessed it was time he asked a few questions of his own, and he wasn’t going to achieve that being a mute the entire time he was here.

“What I don’t understand is why you never called, never visited—what was so important that you couldn’t even pick up the phone and talk for a few minutes?” Dean blanched. He wasn’t sure how to react now that Sam was actually responding to him. He tried to push back how great it felt to have Sam talking to him again.

Sam was right. He could have called. He could have visited. But he chose not to for selfish reasons. He hadn’t been ready to make contact for a long time. In fact, it wasn’t until Ben was born that he was distracted enough not to think about his little brother.

Every day he wanted to talk to him—just hear his voice. And every time he stopped himself. He knew that if he heard the slightest bit of anguish in that innocent voice, he would have caved and come rushing back.

He had to let Sam go. It was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, but it had been his only choice in that situation.

When John called, Dean was scared. He had done his very best to think of any other options. He wanted to see Sam. God, he had wanted to see him so badly it hurt. After the phone call, he had to take a breather. He had been going over some things for work, but he’d dropped it all and sat there in utter silence for the next few hours, until Lisa came up to see how he was doing.

Dean knew that it was time Sam heard his side of the story.

“I promised you that I wouldn’t hurt those kids, but I lied. When we went to school that day, I skipped all of my classes so I could make sure you were okay. It was around lunch time that I saw those guys messing with you. They pushed you to the floor, stole your lunch money and walked off. I saw you get up, brush yourself off and head for the building.

“Once you were out of sight, I went after them. Cornered them against the back of the school. I told them that they would have no warnings, and that I’ve already seen them bullying you, so they would have no second chances.” Dean shifted on the couch, leaning his head back against the cushions.

“I broke both their noses, Sam, and fractured several of their ribs. They were bleeding all over the place. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. It was like every rational part of me was replaced with the anger that I felt the day before. All I could see was that look of pain in your eyes. It spurred me on. Punch after punch until they were out cold on the floor, blood dripping from their noses and mouths.”

Sam’s eyes were wide. He felt slightly betrayed that Dean went behind his back and did that. Although he did say that if they ever laid a hand on Sam again, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

“After checking to see if they were breathing, I was torn between glad and disappointed I felt a pulse. Then I ran. I ran home, hid in my room—busted up a few things. Smashed our bedroom window. I was still so angry. And I was only that angry because they had hurt you, Sam. I couldn’t think straight and I made the decision that I had to get out of there. If I stayed, who knows what I could have been capable of? And well, you know the rest.”

He did know the rest. It was burned in his memory.

A solemn smile bloomed on his face. “I get it, Dean. I do. Every fiber of my being is telling me to forgive you right now. I have the answers that I’ve wanted since the day you left,” he mumbled, not looking at the older man.

Dean crossed his arms, trying not to be too hopeful.

The brunette got up off the couch and approached the stairs, a shower in mind.

“But I cannot forgive you for leaving me, Dean. You have no idea what happened after you left. Maybe I’ll tell you, maybe I won’t…” He trailed off, starting up the stairs. Dean moved to the bottom, resting his hand on the edge.

“Sam, I-“

“No. Forget it. I can’t talk about this right now,” he snapped, stopping at the top of the stairs. “Just leave me alone, okay?” All Dean could do was nod hesitantly. He didn’t want to leave it alone. He wanted to know what happened after he left!

He felt like the worst human being that ever existed.

Sam could do that to him with just a few words…

 

 


	7. The Pain of Losing Someone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean opens up a little to Sam. Sam still doesn't forgive him. Dean brainstorms.

Lisa left the house not too long ago. He didn’t have the option of asking her for advice on this one. He didn’t know what to do. Sam could hurt him so much, and with ease. All he could think about was what might have happened to him during the time he was gone.

Sam seemed upset.

He must have gone through shit!

Dean had been so confident that if he beat the shit out of those kids, the threat would stand for the rest of the douchebags. They must have caught wind of him leaving the brunette all on his own.

Pour, young, defenseless Sam! What the fuck was wrong with him, to leave his younger brother for all those years? He knew high school could be a motherfucking bitch to get through. He just hoped that Sam found some good people to hang out with while he was there.

He wasn’t going to get anything done procrastinating, so he’d have to just barrel into the room without Sam’s permission. This wasn’t ever going to get resolved with the both of them avoiding each other.

Dean trekked up the stairs and opened the door to Sam’s new room. The brunette was talking on the phone to someone, not even acknowledging the older man as he entered the room.

“What did you guys get up to today?” Sam muttered interestedly to the person on the other line.

He felt bad that he was about to break up the conversation, but he really couldn’t hold this off for much longer.

“Sam, we need to talk. Can you tell whoever’s on the phone to call you back, please?” Dean requested evenly, folding his arms over his chest.

He refused to have a two way conversation with his little brother. He knew it would piss him off to the point where he’d throw the guys phone out the window. Although he could easily afford another phone for Sam— _a better one,_ he’d rather not waste money.

“Sorry, Kayden. I’ll call you back in a bit, okay?” The brunette hung up after he received a response. He set his phone by his side on the bed and hesitantly glanced at his older brother, regarding his irritated posture.

Dean silently thanked the man for listening to him without giving him any grief this time. He asked him if he could sit on the bed. Sam’s reply was that it was Dean’s house, so wasn’t that for him to decide.

“Good point,” he returned, settling next to Sam on the bed. The younger Winchester immediately tensed up at the familiar closeness from all those years ago.

“I’m not going to ask you about what happened while I was gone. You can keep that all to yourself for as long as you want. You asked me not to do anything to those guys and I did anyway. It was hard to be around you when I felt so guilty,” he mumbled, resting his hands on his knees. “I thought about you a lot, Sam. We weren’t just brothers, we were best friends, as corny as that is, and something as strong as the bond we had doesn’t just disappear like that—hell, it still hasn’t,” Dean admitted, staring across at Sam’s reaction.

Hazel eyes wanted him to continue.

“Every day, until Ben was born, I thought about you—the good times, and sometimes even the bad. I was kind of grateful I had a son because it distracted me from how it felt to think about you and how upset you must have felt when I was gone.”

Sam still knew when Dean was being genuine with him. He could see it all in his face, his backs, his shoulders, his arms—everything revealed to him that his brother was telling the truth. He felt himself leaning more and more towards letting everything go and just hugging the older man.

His pride didn’t allow him to.

“Thank you for telling me that. It means a lot. Really, it does. But this is eight years running, Dean. You can’t just expect me to drop all the pain and upset that went along with it. So, I accept everything, but I don’t forgive you. I might never forgive you, and it’s up to you if you want to do anything about that,” Sam responded, reaching for his phone. He told Dean he could think about that for as long as he wanted, but right then he had to call Kayden back.

Dean felt somewhat peeved that he was brushed aside by whoever the hell this Kayden was, however he said nothing to insinuate he was pissed off.

He left Sam to his phone call, thoughts running through his head of what he could do to make it up to his younger brother. He knew that flattery wasn’t the key to his heart, but he’d try his luck at a selection of things to sweep this all under the rug.

* * *

 

Later that evening, after Sam had announced he was going to bed, Dean started spit-balling some ideas to Lisa, and asking for her opinion on each one.

“You know this isn’t going to come easy, Dean?” she chided, finding the last suggestion pretentious.

“I know, I know. But I need to do something. I might have to take some time off work to get this done—good thing I run the place, ‘coz this could take a while.”

Lisa rolled her eyes, provoking him to move on to the next idea. They sat at the kitchen table for hours going over countless schemes. She liked the sound of some of them—she could see them working on the brunette, but she didn’t understand how her advice was going to be any good here, considering she barely knew the guy.

Dean encouraged her to focus, declaring that he had the opportunity to rekindle his friendship with Sam, and he wasn’t going to let it slip by any means.

Outside the kitchen, Sam smirked. He had only caught the short end of Dean’s last plan of action and that declaration, however he appreciated the sentiment.

He appreciated that Dean was trying.

He slept peacefully that night, with a small smile on his features.

 

 


	8. Old Habits Don't Die Young

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean spends time mending things.

“Rise and shine, Sam!” Dean ordered from outside the younger man’s room. Sam rolled over on the bed, facing the ceiling. He inwardly groaned when the sun glared at his face. Why exactly did he have to get up anyway? He was a groan ass man and he could wake up whenever the hell he pleased!

“Hurry up, Sam before the day wastes away,” he muttered through the door, ready to burst in if need be.

“Fine,” Sam replied, throwing himself out of bed. He fell into some jogging bottoms and opened the door.

Dean grinned as the door opened. “Put a shirt on, sasquatch,” he advised, waiting for the brunet to grab something. Sam mumbled under his breath as he reached around his room for a shirt.

Unaware, Dean’s eyes drifted to his brother’s toned buttocks. He stopped himself, but couldn’t help appreciating the man’s physique. He clearly hit the gym several times a week to get an ass like that.

“Ready when you are, princess,” he joked, stepping out of the way as Sam passed him at the door. He led him down the steps then halted when they reached the kitchen. Dean told him that the day started with some breakfast, and that the best parts would happen later.

Sam wasn’t sure what to think, but his mouth watered at the sight of the food set out on the table.

* * *

 

_Day one begins!_

Dean thought to himself, pleased by the expression on Sam’s face. Recognition littered his previously skeptical features.

“Put-put golf, are you serious?”

The older man started toward the guy who gave out the clubs, reminding him that he had called in ahead, so the clubs should have already been set aside.

Dean thanked the man as he took the clubs, gesturing for Sam to waddle on over. He did so, albeit slowly, as he couldn’t quite believe they were about to play mini golf. He hadn’t played it since…

_“Just aim for the middle, it’ll go right through—I promise!”_

_“Dean, it’s too far away! It’s not gonna go in!”_

_“Sammy…”_

_“Can you just show me one more time, please?”_

_“Fine. Like this. Hold it like this, not too tight, and then drive it on through.”_

_“Wow! It went in the hole first time!”_

_“It sure did, Sammy.”_

So that’s why they were here. The first time they played put-put golf was when John had to go away for several weeks, and Dean spent the whole time cheering Sam up because it had been the first time he’d been without his father.

They started at hole one. Dean sunk it with the first shot. So did the brunet. This went on until hole seven. By hole nine, Sam was grinning, as he couldn’t help himself. He was having a really good time. And he was much better than he used to be.

The end result was Dean winning.

“Better luck next time, Sam!”

* * *

 

_Day two!_

“You hate museums. Why are we here?”

Dean clapped him on the shoulder and moved inside the building. “It’s not for me,” he admitted, enjoying the smile that followed. Sam’s cheeks heated when he caught his brother staring at him. He tried to focus on the exhibits instead.

It wouldn’t do him too good to give his brother the satisfaction.

_Day three!_

Sam and Dean traipsed into the cinema, side by side. They stood slightly closer to each other than they did on day one. Sam felt more comfortable. He was starting to enjoy being treated so well by the blond.

“Two tickets, please?”

The ticket salesman blushed at the sight of the two handsome men in front of her. “Um, what movie would you like to see?” As part of procedure, she pointed toward the list above her, smiling invitingly at the Winchester’s.

“That all depends on what he wants to see. My treat,” he grinned at the woman, turning to glance at his younger brother. He asked the man if there was anything he had in mind. Dean knew that Sam was into those soppy chick flick movies where the whole thing was predictable.

Girl meets guy. Girl doesn’t think she’s good enough for guy. Guy changes so girl is less insecure. They get close. They party. They have a date. He fucks up. She makes it hard for him. He says a speech about how much he’s changed, and they live happily ever after.

“Oh, that’s so sweet. How long have you been together, if you don’t mind me asking?” the girl said, kind of disappointed they were a couple, yet also intrigued.

Sam caught himself laughing behind his older brother, finding the spectacle highly amusing. Dean registered what the woman suggested, his ‘brows flying to his hairline.

“Does that get us discount?” he jested, elbowing Sam for giggling.

She looked between the two of them, a shy smile on her face. “Um, no—I was just curious…”

Dean shrugged. “In that case then, we’re just brothers,” he answered, encouraging Sam to hurry up and pick a movie.

_Just brothers?_

Why did that sting so much? Why did it suddenly feel like his blood was ice cold, and his stomach was as tight as an incorrectly sized ring? He didn’t understand, but he brushed it off for now.

* * *

 

_Day seven! I think I’m starting to get somewhere._

Dean was feeling more confident in his relationship with his brother. Sam no longer went straight to his room when they were finished with the activity for the day. He took more of an interest in what Dean actually did for work, which the older man told him over a midnight snack in the conservatory. Sam had taken a liking to it. He mentioned that he’d like to sit back and relax with a good book there. Dean called him a nerd, and was rewarded with a punch.

He had proceeded to flick Sam on the ear and joked about being nice to his elders.

“I understand you’re the boss of that place and everything, but there has to be a limit to what you can do, right?” Sam complained, slightly worried for his life.

Dean leaned over the side of the hot air balloon, staring down at the buildings through the clouds. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of heights, Sammy--I mean, Sam,” he responded, kicking himself for letting old habits slip through.

Hesitantly, Sam walked across the small space and came up next to his brother’s side. Dean felt a warm sensation spread from his right bicep, all the way to his abdomen. He narrowed it down to adrenaline and glanced at his brother through the corner of his eye.

“It’s okay, Dean,” he said simply, going quiet immediately after. Dean joined him in the silence, an invisible weight falling off his shoulders.

Things were looking up. 

_Day thirteen!_

* * *

 

“I’ve never done this before, Dean…”

“You’ll be great. Now let’s show these sons of bitches no one stands a chance against the Winchester’s!” he bellowed, charging through the woods with brute force. Sam followed after him, adjusting himself to the weight of the paintball gun.

While he’d never done this before, he had definitely wanted to for quite some time now. He watched as Dean shot some teenagers, taking three of them out in the span of a few seconds.

“Duck, Sammy!”

Sam crouched, his body tensing up when Dean fired a shot that went right behind him. He heard a kid cry out at the pain. Dean told the brat to man up and wait for the next game.

A signal for him to move left had Sam doing exactly that. He aimed and shot at one of the players, pure joy swimming through him when he landed his first shot.

“Nice job!” Dean praised from several meters away, currently taking on a few kids at the same time. The brunet picked up his pace, stopping just shy of the targets. He prepared himself, then fired two shots—missing the first but hitting the bullseye with the second one.

He could get used to this.

_Day twenty!_

* * *

 

Sam was surprised they were in a bar. Especially since they’ve been doing everything under the sun that would make any normal person bankrupt, for twenty days in a row now. Rock climbing and paintballing were definitely at the top of his list.

But there they were. At a bar. Just a plain, simple bar. Nothing extravagant about it.

“Let’s go, Sam,” Dean encouraged, slinging his arm over Sam’s shoulders and leading them into the bar. They’ve been getting closer recently. They bumped fists like lame-wads—Dean’s way of putting it—they did the whole over the shoulder thing. Whenever they sat next to each other, their knees would touch unconsciously, and Sam’s stomach would do a couple of turns every time, especially when the older man would rest his hand on Sam’s knee when he was trying to get his attention.

Dean signaled for two beers, setting them down at the table.

“I wanted to do something a little more chilled out tonight. And I also wanted to ask how you were feeling…”

This was it. Sam had to be honest with the man. He deserved that much for the amount of effort he was putting into literally everything they did during these past twenty days. Sam felt like a spoiled child. Dean bought him anything he glimpsed his eyes over. He bought him a new phone—a smart phone. He set him up with the latest mac book.

Sam had been spoiled rotten.

Money wasn’t the key to him. Not at all. He appreciated the gifts—don’t get him wrong. But it wasn’t the money being spent on him that drove him to forgive the blond. It was the talking, getting to know him all over again. It was the small things, for example hearing him talk to Lisa about the progress, and how happy it made him to see Sam smiling because of him again.

Sam wished he could have just said those things to him instead of his _girlfriend._ The sentiment was still there, though.

He wasn’t cruel, so he wouldn’t keep Dean waiting any longer to hear what he seemingly desperately wanted to.

“I forgive you,” he mumbled softly.

Dean’s eyes widened and his face split in half at the intensity of his grin. The need to hug Sam was overwhelming him. All he wanted to do was throw Sam into his lap and run his fingers through that familiar brown hair, like he used to do.

That wouldn’t be appropriate, though.

Sam had just forgiven him.

The brunet could see how thankful his older brother was. It was all in his eyes like everything was. Sam could still read the man like a book with little to no effort. _Lisa would never be able to do that._

* * *

 

After several beers, several shots of double whisky and a massive dinner at the bar, Dean and Sam stumbled through the door quite late. Sam was drunk off his ass, and Dean was only fairing a tad better. He had more than Sam, but he had a better handle on his drinking, clearly.

“De—“ Sam forgot what he was going to say. “Oh, Dean—“

“Shush, Sam. Ben’s asleep,” Dean admonished, leading Sam over to the sofa. He dropped him in the middle and asked if he wanted anything to eat. Sam shook his head and pulled Dean down on the sofa with him.

Dean steadied himself and tensed up when Sam’s head bopped against his shoulder. “Sammy, your bed’s upstairs…” He felt happy to be this close to Sam again. His insides were having a field day, but he really should get to bed.

“Stay… Here, with me—please?”

The second Sam uttered those words, Dean knew that he wasn’t going to his own bed tonight. He sighed and traced his fingers through the mop of brown hair. Sam shuddered delightfully at the nostalgic motion he hadn’t felt in many years.

Dean wasn’t sure what to do when Sam maneuvered himself on to his lap. He moved further down so he could get comfortable, resting his head in the familiar place. Dean stroked Sam’s back and sighed. Surprisingly, even though Sam was taller than him now, he still felt so light pressed against his chest.

Dean’s eyes felt heavy and his whole body was hot.

He guessed old habits didn’t die young after all.

“Good night, Sammy,” he mumbled sleepily, kissing the top of Sam’s head.


	9. Science Fiction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam goes to the library. He meets man named Lucifer. Sex ensues.

Dean had been awake for a while now. His little brother still had his head resting against his chest, so he wasn’t able to move just yet. If he did move, he wasn’t sure how Sam would take it. The guy might see it as him rejecting him again—Dean didn’t want to deal with that. Not at all. Not after all the progress he made.

Last night, Sam had said that he forgave him. He wasn’t naïve. He knew that things couldn’t go back to the way they used to be when they were younger just like that. It was going to take some time before they could come close to such a thing.

There may be some rare moments like what’s happening right now. However, this was brought on by the influence of alcohol.

How would Dean know that his brother wouldn’t freak out the second he woke up and found himself in the familiar position?

Dean would just have to wait.

He heard the pitter-patter of slippers coming down the stairs and looked towards the bottom. Lisa appeared there, yawning and brushing her hair out of her eyes.

She observed the imagery before her—confusion briefly clouding her eyes.

“What’s, um—“

Dean told her that that was something they used to do when they were younger, as he casually stroked the back of Sam’s hair. Her face revealed she needed a moment to take what was happening in—Dean felt a twinge of hurt that Lisa didn’t understand that he couldn’t allow any of these opportunities to slip.

He’d talk to her about it later.

Sam was his main focus presently.

All of his time and energy was going to go into making Sam comfortable living with him, and finding him something to keep him preoccupied while Dean was otherwise engaged.

After just accepting that she’d probably be seeing more of this behavior, due to all the stories Dean’s told her over the years, Lisa smiled and carried on in to the kitchen, in a need of a nice, hot coffee.

That made the man feel slightly better. She had no right to judge anything he did anyway. And Sam wasn’t just some person to him. He was the only soul that could make him smile… He saved him from a path that could have led him to the depths of the earth, and the guy wasn’t even aware of it.

The hold he had on Sam unconsciously tightened, painful memories provoking him to find a source of clarity. His clarity was Sam. He buried his face in the man’s hair, peppering caring kisses on the top, while smoothing the hand that wasn’t keeping Sam’s head up down his back, following the length of his spine.

Sam’s eyes blinked open, his senses picking up a musky smell, mixed with remnants of alcohol and cigarette smoke. He lifted his head, wincing at the pulsing surrounding his temples. His eyes felt heavy, and his body weighed a tone.

“Do ya’ want some Aspirin?” Dean whispered hotly into the air.

Hazel eyes shimmered, recognition dawning on him. They went to the bar… He said that he forgave Dean… And then he asked him to stay on the sofa like old times… Yeah, now he remembered.

He lifted himself up halfway, taking some of the pressure off Dean’s chest, who without realizing hasn’t yet removed his hands from Sam. They’re both resting comfortably on the man’s hips now, following his movements.

Sam inhales loudly, rubbing a fist over his right eye.

How was it that Sam was twenty years of age and still able to make actions like that seem cute? Dean didn’t understand. He didn’t mind that it brought a smile to his face, but he did mind the _other_ thing…

“Up you get, Sam. Let’s get rid of that hangover!”

“Yeah, okay,” Sam replied, lethargically shifting himself around to remove himself from his brothers’ lap. He had been really comfortable, so his efforts weren’t as resolute as they could have been.

All the movement was causing problems, so Dean picked Sam up off the couch with him and set him down on the floor, quelling the warm feeling in his stomach.  

“Wow! Daddy’s so strong!” Ben exclaimed, having just come down the stairs to see his father so easily lift his uncle off him in seconds flat. And Ben was under the impression that because Sam was massive, Dean never should have been able to carry him.

“Daddy’s stronger than Superman!”

Dean laughed at the spectacle. Sam cringed at the intensity of the little boy’s voice. It was going to grind his head to dust.

“I’ll show you how strong Daddy is!” Dean declared, surprising Sam by suddenly hauling him up and over his right shoulder, holding his legs in place as he walked them to the kitchen.

Sam’s cheeks flushed. Either because that was embarrassing, or because all this motion wasn’t making him feel so good.

His brother was stronger than he used to be, though. Sam wasn’t just tall. He also had toned muscles. Evidently he was beating Dean by a view inches in the height department. So how the hell was his older brother walking him around the kitchen table to easily? There was no break in his voice, which meant that there couldn’t be much strain—not to mention the brunet was pretty much deadweight right now…

He didn’t understand. Not one bit.

“Could you please put me down now?” he whined. Literally. His stomach lurched with each step, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold everything down.

Dean grinned, releasing Sam from his shoulder and placing him on the ground. The room was spinning all around the man, however he showed some gratitude with a thank you.

He still wasn’t sure if he wasn’t going to need to run to the bathroom…

“Do it again! Do it again!”

Sam caught the withering smirk directed at him.

“No. Not again. Lift Lisa!” he snapped, running out of the room as fast as he could.

* * *

 

Feeling multitudes better from earlier, Sam decided it was time that he do some exploring of his own. The first thing he wanted to do was locate the nearest library. He liked to study, and that hadn’t change. Not since he was little. In fact, it was one of the only things that remained true of his younger self before Dean left.

Lisa had told him about a library that wasn’t too far from the house. He had set out as soon as he finished getting ready after his half an hour long shower. He wasn’t sure why he spent so much time in there…

Well, that’s not true.

He knew exactly why—he had some business to attend to. Business that left him feeling satisfied for the time being.

Dean had been hesitant to let him leave the house on his own, to which Sam offered him a _are you kidding me?—_ type of look that he hoped conveyed his thoughts on that. Dean relented finally, when the younger man pointed out that he wasn’t a child anymore, and he’d been without the blond for eight years, so what difference would that make?

He had chosen to ignore the guilt ridden expression he received. Instead, he mentioned that he’d be back in a few hours and exited on that note.

Honestly, he was really excited to go to the library. The amount of things Dean showed him over the past month or so were amazing. He just hoped that the library stood up to the rest of this city/town/wherever the hell he now lived.

To avoid thinking about the fact he was going to have to leave, Sam never looked into his next place of revenue. He didn’t want the idea lingering on his mind for more than the car ride he went through with John.

He had listened to his music for most of it. Drowning out everything in his way. When John wanted to say something to him, he would simply pull back one of the phones, gaining Sam’s attention in the process.

Sam arrived at the library. It was huge—much bigger than the one back home! He hoped it had lots of science fiction novels. He had acquired a taste for them. Kayden leant him one to read. He loved it, so he started taking out more books of that genre.

The double doors slid open, and Sam stepped through, gazing at the vast amount of bookshelves, labelled alphabetically and categorically. At least the place was well organized.

He didn’t waste any time. Avoiding the lady at the counter waiting to assist him, the brunet found his own way around the library, keeping his eyes peeled for the science fiction section of the establishment.

That wasn’t the only genre he enjoyed, but it was what he wanted to delve into in the current moment in time. Before them, he would read romance novels; horror novels; adventure novels… But he found that they were all missing an important element. And he came across that when he read his first sci-fi.

A few minutes later, Sam saw the billboard for the section he was looking for. He spotted a few people in the area already, sat down on a beanbag with a open book across their laps.

Sam allowed a small smile, then ambled over to the books, searching left and right for a title that might appeal to him, or an author that he’d read before.

“Are you looking for a certain book in particular?”

Turning his head to the side to see who was addressing him, Sam offered a friendly smile. “No, not really. Just browsing for something interesting,” he replied honestly, returning back to his hunting.

“Here, try this one,” the man insisted, handing the book over.

Sam stared at the cover. “Nothing Is Forever?”

“It’s a book about an Astronaut who is abandoned on the moon. Not on purpose. A worm hole swallows the rest of his crew up. He survives, however—“

“Dude, if you want me to read it, don’t give away the key parts!” Sam interrupted, laughing slightly at the puzzled reaction he received from the man.

“Fair enough,” he uttered, reaching out his hand.

Sam took it without hesitation.

“Lucifer,” he introduced.

Briefly, Sam’s eyebrows rose from the name.

“Sam,” he revealed, shaking his hand.

Lucifer grinned, and gestured for the young man to follow him. He did. He wasn’t sure why, but he had the feeling this would lead somewhere good if he went along with him. Dean would be furious if he knew Sam made a decision like that.

He was led to a more secluded room, with a different array of books. “I could see you were eager to read from the way you were eyeing all the books on the shelf,” Lucifer admitted, offering a seat.

He watched Sam closely as he sat, admiring the outline of the man’s ass, and the power that resided in those toned thighs. It was starting to turn him on, however he pushed back the feelings of arousal. He wasn’t sure that Sam swung that way. If they were at a gay bar, he would have been increasingly more forward.

Although his name meant the King of hell, it didn’t make him evil.

No, he didn’t prey on those that weren’t into that sort of thing.

He’d have to wait and see.

* * *

 

“Why isn’t he back yet?” Dean groaned for the fifth time that night. If Sam said he’d be back in a few hours, surely he should have been back by now? It’d been several, to Dean’s knowledge. He’d given up trying to text the guy. The seen it function was on that Iphone, so Dean knew his brother hadn’t seen any of them.

Not yet.

Who gets that distracted reading a damn book?

“He’s a grown man, Dean. He’ll be back soon,” Lisa assured. She was uncomfortable. The tension in the room was almost unbearable, and it was because Sam hadn’t let Dean know where he was.

Honestly, Dean was acting like he’d been stood up on a date. This wasn’t healthy. It was completely ridiculous. She’d never met a pair of brother’s who were as touchy-feely as the Winchester’s.

She half expected the blond to turn around one day and tell her that he realized he was in love with Sam, and could no longer be with her anymore.

How ludicrous was that?

Dean’s eyes were sharp. “Grown man that can’t even check his phone for two seconds to see that his brother is worried about him?” he snapped in reply, holding his fist steady in his lap.

He wanted to punch something.

Sam’s voice flittered in from the front room. On his feet immediately, Dean stalked toward him, his eyes hot and heavy with irritation. He spotted his younger brother, who was currently chatting to some guy that Dean had never seen before.

“Just take a seat for a second, I’ll be right back,” Sam said, pointing towards the couches.

Lucifer smiled. “Sure.”

The younger Winchester stepped over to his brother, who was busy currently shooting daggers with his eyes at the mysterious man sitting on _his_ couch, watching _his_ brother’s ass as he walked away.

What the hell was this?

Does Sammy know that this pervert was eye-raping him on the spot?

“Dean, is everything okay?”

He followed Sam into the conservatory, checking to see if Ben was anywhere in earshot. “No, everything is not okay, Sam! Why are you inviting strangers into my house without asking first?” His brother needed to start explaining quickly before he threw that dick out on his ass.

“He’s not a stranger. Not anymore. I’ve been talking to him since two-thirty, and I’ve learned a lot about him.”

Dean ran a hand down his face. “That doesn’t make it okay to just bring him back to where you live! How do you know he isn’t some serial killer… Or… Rapist?!” he raged, taking a seat to try and calm his nerves, and wipe his head clean of the disgusting images roaming his mind. Images that made his skin crawl.

“Look, Dean, I appreciate your concern. I’m sorry that I didn’t ask first, but my phone died earlier. It had hardly any charge because I forgot to charge it last night when we were drunk. If it turns out he’s either of those things, I’ll handle it on my own—“

“The fuck you will! Anything like that happens, you shout and I’ll be up there with a shotgun, you understand me?” he shot back, his eyes almost pleading. He couldn’t think about something like that. It was all too much. His stomach was burning just from the thought of Sam’s blood all over the floor when he could have been there to prevent it happening.

“So, it’s okay for him to be here as long as I let you know if I think something bad will happen?”

There was deep hesitation all over the older man’s body. But it was what Sammy wanted, so he wasn’t going to deny him this. He wasn’t happy about it—not in the slightest bit. For now, he would have to deal with it.

Dean took his time, but eventually he nodded dully, exiting the conservatory. He had wanted to bring up what he saw earlier. Then again, he wasn’t sure if Sam wasn’t looking for something like that to begin with…

Sam was a big boy now—he could take care of himself, right? Dean wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure why he really didn’t like the idea of anyone wanting to get into Sam’s pants, either…

It’s not like he—

No, that was stupid.

* * *

 

Lucifer growled, leaving a trail of bites along Sam’s body. They were naked on the bed. Lucifer was on top of the younger man, grinding against him—stimulating their cocks. Sam arched his back at the friction, enjoying the treatment he was being given.

The dark blond lowered himself further, stopping in between Sam’s legs.

It had been a while since Sam had done this. But he really wanted to. He felt weird doing it in Dean’s house, however Lucifer lived much further away, and he’d already begun teasing the man at that room in the library.

Originally, it had started with light touches here and there. Then he palmed Sam through his jeans, and it lit a fire in Sam’s belly. Without thinking, Sam had latched onto the man’s lips.

Now they were here.

Lucifer played with Sam’s heavy balls, admiring the weight in his hands. He pushed Sam’s legs apart, peering at the twitching hole between the brunet’s legs. His mouth watered at the sight of the inviting pink pucker.

The thought of being inside that heat made his cock twitch with desire.

Sam was a perfect specimen, and he knew he was going to have a lot of fun with this man. The things he could imagine himself doing…

Lucifer smirked, wrapping his fingers around Sam’s beating length. He jerked the flesh, focused on the tip pealing out through skin each time, before retreating back in, behind its curtain.

He tilted down, breathing over the top of the heated arousal, before taking inch after inch into his cavern, relishing the feeling of his mouth being filled. Sam’s hands roamed the older man’s back, paying close attention to his sides and butt-cheeks.

Sam spread them, rotating the mass of flesh in his hands, as Lucifer continued to suck on his hard cock, dragging pleasurable noises from the larger man. Sam couldn’t help it. Lucifer was good.

He clearly had vast experience.

Sam smoothed his hands up Lucifer’s back, gently imprinting his blunt nails in unknown parts on accident, provoked by the long, calculated sucks from the man on top of him, working his dick with expert ease.

His orgasm was inevitable.

He came with a travelling grunt into Lucifer’s mouth.

Lucifer accepted all of it, pulling back with a pop and swallowing every drop. He pressed his strong hands on the backs of Sam’s thighs, pushing them back until Sam’s knees rested against the top of the brunet’s shoulders.

Vaguely aware of what was coming next, Sam prepared himself mentally. Lucifer smirked, touching Sam’s puckered entrance with his talented tongue, lashing at it with quick speed, getting it nice and wet for the next stage.

Sam felt himself relaxing, which in turn caused his hole to loosen, opening up for the devious muscle squirming its way inside of him.

He arched off the bed when the tip rubbed along the spot near his perineum, just inches from his prostate. Lucifer must have experience in this as well. He must be good at all areas of anal sex.

His breath hitched when an unannounced digit slid inside of him, quickly locating a pleasurable spot to keep the man relaxed. Lucifer grinned when he saw his work was starting to effect Sam’s member.

Blood was slowly rushing towards it, forced on by the finger now shifting in and out of him, teasing his prostate with each penetration.

Sam didn’t have time for this. He was starting to get impatient. “There’s lube in the second draw,” he managed to reveal, keeping his knees up, and preventing any embarrassing noises spewing from his lips.

Lucifer momentarily left Sam feeling empty. He reach across the younger man, appreciating the position Sam was in. He snatched the lube from the draw and readjusted himself between Sam’s legs.

“You ready then, Sam?” he asked, slathering the cold liquid all over his cock. When he was given the nod, he lined up his member, pushed the head in, steadied himself for a second then quickly rammed the rest of the way in.

Sam bit his lip to stop from crying out. The initial burn had started. It wouldn’t take too long to quell, and then they could proceed to the good part.

“Go.”

Lucifer guided himself out to the head then snapped back in.

* * *

 

Dean couldn’t believe it. He felt sick to his stomach. All he wanted to do was kick down the door and beat the shit out of that motherfucker who was currently pounding his younger brother into the mattress…

He’d gone upstairs to get something from his room. Stopped when he heard Sam tell that asshole to go, then stood there in horror as he listened to Sam half-moan, and then later order him to move faster…

How else was Dean supposed to take that?

He felt like his whole world was crashing around him. A warm batch of bile rose in his throat. He located the nearest bathroom toiler and chucked his guts up into the center.

Sam was…

But all those years ago when…

It was still wrong, but half the chance was there and now—

What was he going to do now?

Dean sat there with his head resting on the toilet seat, prepared if he needed to release anymore of the contents of his stomach into the bowl.

 

 


	10. Work Is Something I Can Handle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean can't get over what happened. He goes to work for some familiarity.

Dean wasn’t feeling any better in the morning. The sensation of something vulgar crawling around his insides was all he could feel whenever he dared to glance at his brother. He shouldn’t be angry. He shouldn’t feel any negative emotions towards the happenings of the night before.

He should be happy that Sam was having fun.

Then why did his heart feel like it was snapping in half every time he so much as glimpsed at his baby brother?

All Dean wanted to do was beat the living shit out of that bastard that clearly seduced Sam! He was confident that Sam wasn’t the type to sleep around with strangers. At least, he hoped not.

The clock ticking away on the wall was irritating him. He wanted to smash it to pieces. Lisa might say something if he did that, so he refrained, curling his fingers on the table with each passing second, trying and failing to distract himself from the thoughts in his head.

Thoughts of something that he never wants to hear ever again—not with that guy. Not with any guy. No one gets to touch Sam, but him. Will Sam ever let Dean touch him in _that_ way, though? He likes to be touched _that_ way. It’s just that it would be with his older brother who’s been in love with him since he first laid eyes on him! And that’s definitely not _that_ weird.

Dean bit his lip to stop from spitting a curse. Ben was calmly eating his lunch, simultaneously messing around with an action figure. He doesn’t want to ruin the kids’ ears with his foul language, so he holds it off. Instead, he made lists of things he would say if he could right now in his head.

The worst part was… Sam’s acting so casual about it! Maybe that’s because he had no idea that Dean had been outside the room and heard them thrusting against each—Dean’s not going to relive it. He won’t bring himself to shove those images to the forefront of his mind!

Ever since Sam showed up at his door, the dreams had started again. He managed to keep them under control as much as he could. But last night they took a wrong turn. And instead of the usual, where he’s rocking gently into Sam’s beautiful, athletic body—that douchebag looked toward the ceiling, and Dean saw his smirking face as Lucifer slammed into the brunet.

Dean shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He excused himself from the table, completely blanking Lisa when she asked him what was wrong. He had no time for her today. Now that he’d finished mending some of the pain that Sam felt, he could get back to work.

Honestly, he just wanted something to take his mind off this whole thing. So, that’s what he was going to do. Work. Forget. Maybe drown himself in alcohol later that night if he still couldn’t manage to get it out of his mind.

Snatching his keys off the hook, Dean opened the door and headed for his car. He opened the door, got in and revved the engine. He noticed Sam watching him from his bedroom window. The brunet waved with a smile. Dean tipped his head. That’s all he could do right now, his body stiff—robotic, as he sped down the road, on-route for work.

He arrived ten minutes later, pulling into his own parking space. Hopping out of the car, he locked it, then strolled up to the double doors. People greeted him on his way in. Everyone that asked him how he was feeling got a cold stare. They immediately shut up and let him get on with it.

Dean walked into the main office, falling into his chair. He didn’t wait a second to get to work, starting up his computer. He checked the funds of his shipping company, then loaded up the budget for the money-lending business, seeing if he was making less of a profit. A small smile tugged at his lips when he discovered that everything he put his trust in was doing well, and the cut he was getting from each business he helped just kept pushing him up the numbers.

This was where he needed to be. Somewhere familiar. Somewhere he didn’t have to think about what happened in his house just last night. Here, he could throw himself into his work and nothing would bother him.

After putting some money into his account, Dean wrote up a report, then activated the phones, letting his assistant Ashley know that he was ready to take some calls. She joked with him about how hopeless they all were without his charm and wit. He laughed a little, but interrogated her on what she meant by that. She admitted shyly that sometimes the guys just didn’t have the right pitch.

In that case, he’d have to let some people go. He’d been gone two months, and records show they’d only managed to secure trust from another five business. That wasn’t enough of a deal for Dean. He expected more from his workers.

He’d been thinking about bringing Sam in to work for him. Just because he was depressed over the details of the other night, didn’t mean he couldn’t recognize the talent that Sam had for charming people.

When he felt better, and not sick to his stomach every second he was near the younger man, he’d talk to him about it. Maybe talk to the wall about it… Or call him. Whatever hurt less.

The phone rang. He picked it up, putting on an enthusiastic and confidence apparel. “You’ve reached Winchester Inc. How may I help you?” He listened to the man talk about his idea for a small business, and how much money he was going to need to get it started. Dean ran the numbers on the computer, contemplating the idea in his head as he went along, muttering small noises into the receiver at selective times to show that he was still listening. “Okay, so that’s a fifteen grand loan to get you started, then we’ll give you a call when it’s up and running to finalize the agreement, okay?” The man almost screamed his gratefulness into the phone. Dean thanked him for his time, lied about looking forward to speaking with him again and hung up, proud of himself for making a deal on his first call on his first day back.

Even if his insides were in shambles, and his heart did feel like it wanted to take a vacation from his chest, he was still good at his job. He worked so hard to achieve something in his life after he left Sam. It was true that he wanted to achieve something, he just had no idea what that might be.

It took a long time for him to get here. He started up his own small businesses. Just small things—selling bits and pieces on the street. It continued to progress and march forward. And with the money he was making, he expanded into different areas.

Now he had more money than he knew what to do with.

Dean made a few more deals in the next two hours, feeling like he was in his element. He was happy with his progress. This was what he had been missing. Something to keep him busy. Something to keep him from _those_ kinds of thoughts.

He was never going to act on them. Not for the rest of his life. He put Sam through something so awful eight years ago. He was _not_ dragging him into _this._ This messed up thing that he’d had going on in his mind for so long now.

Sam doesn’t deserve to have _that_ put on his shoulders. No, Dean will go the rest of his life making sure that Sam never knew. He’d cover up the hurt along the way and just be happy that Sam was healthy.

While he won’t accept him being with that Lucifer guy—there’s just something that Dean hated about that man. He can’t put his finger on it. Maybe it was the name? It does have an evil nature to it. Dean was sure there was actually nothing wrong with Lucifer. It was just a name after all. The whole nature of him irked Dean, however. And he just hoped that that night was a one time thing.

Another hour passed. Dean’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Fishing it from his pocket, he slid the screen and punched in his password before checking the message from _Sammy._ It was Sam asking him what time he would be coming home. For some reason his heart clenched. Maybe it was Sam calling his house _home._ Maybe it was just because it was _Sam._

He messaged back that he would be back when he finished work. Subconsciously, he knew that Sam was aware that being his own boss he could go home whenever he wanted. But he didn’t want to leave right now. He needed to work more. Get the thoughts out of his head and pick up some whisky when he eventually decided to leave.

Ashley knocked softly on the door. He gestured her in. She slid through the door and approached him, familiar folder held between her arms. Not waiting to be addressed, she asked if he wanted to talk. When he told her there was nothing to talk about, she respected his privacy and got down to business instead.

Dropping the folder on his desk, she opened it up and pointed to the most recently printed out page. It was a page displaying their weekly targets, and if they had been met or not. Dean was pleased to see that everything was in order. Nothing out of place. There were still some people he had to let go, however.

“Ashley, will you send Ryan, Hannah and Cody in?” he requested, typing a few things into his computer. He wasn’t going to completely let them go. He wasn’t an asshole, and he was aware of their talents. They would just be better in another area.

Ashley looked worried for them, though. Everyone was very close here. And they all loved working under Dean. He was a fair boss, but he got serious when he needed to. They all respected him for it. They knew that he had their best interests at heart.

A few months ago, he started allowing more holidays. He grinned the second he got to work. He chatted animatedly with everyone on their lunch breaks. They were all very curious to ask what had him so happy, but didn’t question it. He was relaxed, and they hadn’t seen him that relaxed since… Well, ever.

So no one said anything to him and just basked in his happiness, joining him in the conversations—cracking jokes with them. Dean had started giving them all nicknames. For a while, he had been so chipper. Then he took a few months leave without much notice. So, when he returned with a face full of thunder, they had to wonder if what pushed his mood up also caused it to plummet.

Pushing her hair back, Ashley sighed and called the three workers into the office. She wanted to stay and see how things turned out. She had a job to do, though, so she couldn’t do that.

Dean gestured his hand to the seats in front of him. They all took a respective place, their eyes shifting around the room with caution. Dean didn’t like the way they were fidgeting and avoiding eye-contact.

“Look, don’t worry so much. I’m not gonna let you sit and fester. Yes, you’re not going to be working here anymore, but I’m just moving you to one of my other companies on the other side of town.”

Cody asked him why. Always the one to have more of a voice than the other two. He told them that their talents would work better there. He was sure of it. They weren’t that convinced, just happy to still have a job.

“Your salaries won’t change. Just your positions. I promise,” he assured, smiling at them. It was fake, but it was the best he could do at this moment in time. They went for it, thanking him for the opportunity and left his office.

He pressed his fist against his face and sighed, writing an email to the man he put in charge to let him know that he was transferring three employees.

Three more hours passed. Dean felt that it was time to retire for the night. He felt tired. His voice hurt a little from acting like he gave a shit about everything for such a long time. Now he needed a nice whisky, trash TV and a reasonably early night.

He’d just be doing the same tomorrow, so it was best that he got a good night sleep in. Pushing from his desk, Dean checked for his keys in his back pocket. He nodded when he found them, heading out of his office. Saying good night to the staff that were left, Dean exited the building, getting into his car and heading for home.

When he arrived, the lights were still on. It wasn’t late. Only nine in the evening. Ben would be asleep. Lisa might be reading. Sam might be—no, he’s not going to think about that. Not ever again. He stepped out of his car, bringing his bag containing a bottle of whiskey with him.

He stopped at the shop before he continued on home.

Dean unlocked the door, pushing it open and unscrewing the key. He kicked the door closed behind him, turning to lock everything up. Silence greeted him. He shrugged, toeing off his shoes and padding to the kitchen, setting the carrier bag on the table.

Pulling a glass from the cupboard, Dean shut it afterwards, taking the bag with him into the conservatory. When he walked in, Sam was concentrating on a book in his lap. He slowed to a stop, considering his options.

He could sit down and pretend that Sam wasn’t there. Or he could leave now and hope that his brother didn’t catch a glimpse of him slash hear him when he opened the door.

Shaking his head, Dean walked through and took a seat on the love seat, setting his glass on the table beside him.

Sam’s head lifted. He wondered why Dean didn’t say anything when he walked into the room, but decided to ignore it for now. He was just glad that Dean was home. That’s all that really mattered to him.

“How was work?”

Slowly, Dean raised his head as he brought the big bottle of whiskey out from the carrier bag, twisting the cap off as he answered, “It was good. Made lots of new deals.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

This wasn’t working. Every time Sam spoke, Dean’s mind morphed it into those words of encouragement for that son of a bitch to do unspeakable things to his baby brothers’ body! He snapped his eyes away, unable to hold Sam’s gaze at all.

Shifting on the chair to try and find some comfort, Dean poured his first glass of whiskey, bringing it up to his lips to take in the strong aroma, could almost taste it on his tongue.

He tipped it into his mouth, shuddering gleefully as it burned down his throat. He didn’t care. This would work. This he could handle. Staring at Sam’s face on the other hand and not seeing him on his knees for a crowd full of douchebags was another thing entirely.

Sam watched Dean carefully, analyzing his pace of drinking. He was pouring one glass after the other, changing the channel occasionally. But mostly chugging down the whiskey like it was water.

Maybe he’d be impressed if it wasn’t so dangerous to that with such hard liquor! He contemplated telling Dean to slow down, but thought better of it. They guy seemed like something was giving him a hard time.

Maybe Dean needed to do this. Sam could respect that. And yet, he felt empty for some reason. Like something was missing between them. Something that made his heart tighten in his chest.

He brushed off the pain, closing the book in his hands.

“You okay?”

Dean lulled his eyes over. “I’m fine, Sam.”

Sam wanted to just let it be. There was something eating at the back of his mind telling him to keep pushing this, though.

“Sure. But, why are you drinking so quickly?”

_Because I can’t stop imagining you taking more dick than a Chinese brothel!_

“Just felt like drinking,” he lied.

“Anything I can do?” Sam questioned, biting his lower lip.

_Stop that. Stop that right now. You could bring that guy here so I could beat the fucking shit out of him. That’d be nice._

Dean told Sam that he just wanted a drink. That there’s nothing for him to be concerned over, as he drained another glass of whiskey. There really was nothing that he could do for Dean that Sam would ever be willing to _do_ , so lying was the next best thing.

He didn’t like to lie.

Hated it, in fact.

But it kept Sam in his life, and so he would if he had to.

Clearly, Sam wasn’t quite convinced with him just wanting a drink. He’d let it go for now. If it happened again, that’s when he’d get more pushy. Opening his book, he turned to the page he was at last and continued his reading, catching his brothers’ actions from time to time, trying not to analyze too much. Dean deserved his privacy, and he wasn’t going to get all up in his business about it.

Dean flicked over to a different channel, almost halfway through the bottle. He was slightly buzzed. Definitely getting there. Dean spread his legs out in front of him, feeling more relaxed. Finished with the speed-drinking for the time being, he poured himself a simple glass and held in on his crotch, breathing out a long sigh.

The new position caught Sam’s eye and he glanced over. Dean’s finger rubbed against the rim of the glass. He was completely focused on the TV—not paying attention to anything else at all.

Sam looked away, confused as his cock twitched. He brushed it off, returning once more to his reading.

 


	11. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam reflects on things and spends some time alone. Dean cooks something familiar.

When Sam woke up, he had his heart set on seeing Dean before he headed off to work. The experience wasn’t what he was expecting. Dean had barely said a word to him as he munched on his toast, which he barely managed to finish.

Sam wasn’t sure what was going on. There was something putting Dean down, and he was determined to figure out what it was. He deserved that much. His brother spent months taking Sam everywhere and spending so much time with him, which was all Sam had really wanted.

The price wasn’t a factor. Yeah, Dean bought him a laptop, a phone and a tablet, but it was being with Dean, laughing and chatting with him that had made Sam happy. That brought him to forgive the older man.

He loved Dean. Dean was his big brother. And seeing him leave all those years ago had been the most painful experience of his life. He remembered not being able to breathe. Everything he knew was fading. His body froze, and he couldn’t move a muscle.

It wasn’t until John hugged him and they both cried that he recalled how to bring air back into his lungs. He didn’t sleep that night. John stayed up with him, cuddling him like Dean would. It didn’t feel the same. It never felt the same after that day.

Everyone that hugged him just brought on unshed tears that he dealt with all on his own. Hugs to him felt cold. Unwanted. He didn’t want comfort from them. Sam had just wanted his big brother back by his side, stroking his hair in that familiar way…

Sam lost his appetite. Dean had left a few minutes ago, without even a backwards glance. That feeling of emptiness was back. Sam hated that feeling. It had been with him since that day. Painfully reminding him that Dean was gone, and that he wasn’t coming back.

This time, Sam wouldn’t let his brother leave. He couldn’t. Not again. Sam wasn’t going to watch his back as he walked away from him—stepped out of his life. There was no way he could go through that again without losing his mind.

He was finally opening his heart for his brother again. Dean’s not going to push him away now? After everything? That would be the worst thing Sam could imagine. The worst punishment he could receive. It hurt like hell the first time. Sam didn’t want to think about how it would feel the second time around.

He didn’t want there to ever be a second time.

There was no coming back from a second time.

Sam vaguely heard Lisa walking into the kitchen. Her presence only served to sour his mood further. He didn’t know why. She was a nice lady. Nice to him. Good to Dean. All that did was piss him off.

These conflicting feelings were driving Sam crazy. He rattled his head and slumped further in his seat, ignoring the concerned look cast his way. Continued to be oblivious as Lisa prepared something in the kitchen, keeping an eye on him as she did so.

Sam didn’t like that. He doesn’t need this woman that he didn’t even know that well pretending that she gave a shit about him. It only served to infuriate him further. He decided he was just going to get out of the house for a bit.

Worrying his lower lip, Sam got out of his chair and headed for the door, checking his pockets before throwing the door open. He could go to the library again. Only thing was, he wasn’t much in the mood for reading.

He started down the road in the direction of the high street. Sure that he could find something to do there. It couldn’t be that hard to find something entertaining that might take his mind off his older brother for the time being.

Sam made it to the high street in record time, his frustration fueling his gate. He bypassed the library, trying to remember some of the fun things him and Dean got up to during that two month period.

Smiling at the fond memory, Sam ducked into the cinema.

Going to the pictures on his own wouldn’t be too bad. He’d be able to get through the movie without someone chattering in his ear about how boringly obvious the plot was. He wasn’t mentioning any names, but there was someone that he knew that was exactly like that when it came to the pictures.

He paid for his ticket, smiling at the clerk before heading to the right screen. Luckily, the place wasn’t too packed. Taking a seat at the back, he spread his legs out comfortably and waited for the previews to begin.

This was usually the moment Dean made jokes about how great the movie is, that a black screen was definitely what he paid to see… Sam still wasn’t entirely sure about everything his brother did for a living, or how much he made. He did think that some of the success might be going to his head just a little bit.

It was a joke about the black screen, but he said it with such sarcasm that Sam thought he was serious, which was why he had felt provoked to remind Dean that they had to wait until everyone was in the room before they started the previews.

Dean had pulled the most offended expression he could muster at the time and told Sam that he wasn’t an idiot.

Sam smiled to himself, settling further into his seat. He hoped this film was as good as the summary he had read on the way in. Like most people, he appreciated good movies. Not some average Joe that saw anything and everything. If the reviews or the summary wasn’t at least decent, he wasn’t going to see it.

A presence loomed over him. He arched an eyebrow, waiting for the familiar person to talk. Lucifer was standing in front of him, grinning cunningly. Sam rolled his eyes. If he thought he was getting Sam again, he was dead wrong.

He was sated for the time being.

“What are the chances of seeing you here?” he smirked.

Sam shrugged. “Same interest in movies?” Oddly, he was uncomfortable. He didn’t want Lucifer to be here. Nothing against him, he’d just rather enjoy some alone time. That meant being on his own, with no one else sat next to him.

“Maybe. Mind if I sit?” Lucifer muttered, waving his hand over the seat next to Sam.

Being honest, Sam told him that he just wanted to be alone at the moment. Lucifer felt compelled to press more information out of the man. He’d had an amazing night with the young brunet, and he was kind of itching for a repeat…

“Come on, Sam. It’s just a seat. We don’t have to talk.”

“And you can sit anywhere,” Sam replied, tipping his head forward, trying to convey how empty the room was. Only, the lack of people in the room served to spur Lucifer on. And now he wanted to do more than just sit in the back row of the picture house with Sam.

No, he wanted to do something that involved noises not coming from the screen.

Sam caught wind of what the older man was thinking and shoved at him. “Just go sit somewhere else. I’m not in the mood for that,” he grumbled stubbornly with conviction. Lucifer feigned hurt, giving up on his efforts for now. He’d try and approach the brunet when he’d cooled down. For now, he had bought a ticket, so he was going to enjoy the movie.

* * *

 

After the cinema, Sam walked back home, completely having ignored Lucifer’s advances. Sam didn’t want to deal with him. Now, the man just put a bad taste in his mouth, so he wouldn’t be shacking up with him again anytime soon.

He went to his room as soon as he got in, not bothering to check if Dean was home, knowing that he wasn’t. When he entered his room, he dived onto his bed and put his headphones on, turning up his music as loud as it would go.

For the time being, he didn’t want to think about things. It hurt to think, so he refused to do it. He was just going to lose himself in the music, maybe catch a few winks before dinner. That sounded like a good idea to him. No thoughts of what’s upsetting Dean. And definitely no thoughts about Dean walking out on him again.

He slept for a few hours, waking up to the smell of something heavenly creeping through the bottom of his door. Taking his headphones off, Sam got up from bed, barreling out of his door and down the stairs to find out what _that_ smell was…

Something about it felt familiar. Something about it felt like… _home._

Stepping into the kitchen, his eyes widened and his heart felt like it was urging its way up his throat. Dean was serving up food. Food that Sam hadn’t seen since all those years ago. The food that Dean would make him when he was upset…

Sam’s mouth watered and his eyes snapped to his brother’s when the older man glanced over his shoulder at the new presence in the room. Dean nodded to a seat, adding the finishing touches as he served everything up.

He called Lisa and Ben down the stairs, setting everyone’s places.

A feeling of guilt made Sam’s fall onto the chair heavier than it should have been. Dean’s been working his ass off all day. Why didn’t he think to cook dinner? Why should he just expect Dean to do everything without helping at all? Why didn’t Lisa take care of dinner? While Sam’s been here, she hadn’t cooked once!

What? She doesn’t have the ability. She was a mother! There must be some ability in there to cook! Sam couldn’t cook well, but he could string things together and follow instructions! It wasn’t that hard.

In fact, he decided that he was going to cook dinner tomorrow for everyone. Even Lisa. Sam waited for Dean to sit before he tucked into his meal. He thanked his brother for it, trying not to feel like the meal was specifically for him because it meant so much…

“You’re welcome,” Dean mumbled, starting on his dinner. He hadn’t meant to make this dish. It just sort of happened. He couldn’t get Sam out of his head while he was at work. Not for a second. Which really sucked, and it kind of messed up his game a little. He didn’t blame Sam, though.

It’s not Sam’s fault everything about him was attractive to the older man.

The dinner brought itself together. Dean just allowed his hands to move, and allowed his hands to pick up whatever they needed at the shop and pay for it. He recognized the dinner almost immediately as the one he would make when Sam was really upset.

He tried not to cry as he prepared it. Before Sam came in the room, he was seconds from breaking down.

Just knowing Sam was there gave him the strength to keep his composure, and for that he was grateful. It wouldn’t have been good for Sam to see him crying for _no_ reason. And Dean wasn’t one to cry on a regular basis, so Sam would immediately be suspicious.

Hell, Dean knew if he saw Sam in that state, he’d be asking for names and addresses immediately, his body already prepared for a fight.

No one was allowed to hurt Sam or make him cry. Not while Dean was around, or there to protect him. He just hoped that Sam never suffered much while he was gone. He hoped that the threat was there, or Sam started fighting back bit by bit…

Dean had taught him to defend himself, so he knew he was capable of flooring all of those rejects.

Deciding to let it go for now, Dean attempted to enjoy his meal.

 


	12. Don't Fall Asleep At Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam made good on his promise to make dinner. Dean finds out that someone knows his dirty little secret.

He’d said it yesterday, so he was going to do it. Sam didn’t go back on his word. A Winchester never went back on their word. Today, he was going to spend his entire day preparing everything for dinner. Dean would return home from work around eight in the evening, so he had lots of time to get everything together.

When he woke up, he didn’t bother to say anything to Lisa, not even on his way out the door. She didn’t deserve to know about his plans. What if he told her and she asked to help, then took all the credit at the end of it? That would make him furious—it wouldn’t be good to be around that, so he bypassed it entirely.

No, he’d deal with it all on his own. The problem was, he didn’t know what to make. When they were younger, Dean and John took care of all the cooking because Sam was usually at school, and didn’t have that good of an idea on how to cook to begin with.

Sometimes, he had tried to help. But he just ended up getting in the way of everything. Or he got bored. And then he’d usually cling to Dean’s leg, which would become a burden, though his older brother never once pushed him off.

Sam sighed. He wanted to make this dinner special for Dean. Hopefully, Dean will cheer up from the bad mood he’d been in, and spend some more time with Sam. He’d like that very much. But he wasn’t going to push anything. His brother was a busy man. Which meant he had a lot of things to get through in the day, and Sam couldn’t pester him to go to the pictures, or the zoo, or other such places. It wasn’t fair on the man. He already had so much on his shoulders with work, Ben and everything in between.

Sam entered the shops, rolling around a trolley looking for the right ingredients for the idea he had going in his mind that wasn’t quite there yet, but he was just going to go with it, as he had nothing else at present. He picked up a cook book and threw it in to the center. Better to be safe than sorry. Most things had instructions on the back. Sam was planning on cooking something from scratch, so that wasn’t going to be much help for him.

Vegetables joined the book, along with different meats, an assortment of things went into the trolley. Sam’s never done the shopping before. It was kind of exciting to have control over what would be stocking up the fridge. A thought occurred to him of having his own place, with someone that he was in love with. No one sprung to mind. No one that made him want to settle down and move in someplace new. He was happy living at Dean’s for the time being.

He crossed things off his list mentally as he went along, stalking down each aisle to find the correct ingredients, grinning to himself when he found the sweets section. He picked up several different pies for after dinner, grabbing some cake for himself. Pie wasn’t necessarily his thing. But it was Dean’s. Not that he had seen the man eat any while he’d been there, but he had to figure that his brother was still into it. He was just busy. That was all. You don’t just lose your love for something when you become your own boss. That would be silly.

Sam looked at the trolley, happy with the amount it was filled. He rolled it over to the checkout, waiting in line. Checking his phone to pass the time, texting back his friends from home. Today, he was solely focused on the meal. But he could take a couple of seconds to chat if he had the time.

The beep alerted Sam that his things were being put through the scanner. He grinned at the cashier, snatching a few carrier bags to start loading his items into them, starting up a brief conversation about how inconvenient it was that the bags sealed themselves shut when they knew damn well people could only hold one end to start putting things in. The store clerk laughed along with him, asking if he was cooking dinner for his girlfriend tonight. Flushing slightly, he explained that he was actually cooking a family meal, being coy about the _girlfriend_ part, as Lord knew that didn’t interest him in the slightest.

After packing everything, Sam paid what he owed on his card, thanked the cashier and went on his way back home. It was lunch time, so he still had plenty of time before his brother came through the door. He didn’t need to panic, but he felt like he was.

Dean always made the dinner. So, he was damn good at it! Sam was a complete amateur when it came to cooking, so he’d just have to try his level best to do a half-decent job. Or as best as he could do. Whatever came first. He realized his palms were sweaty and wiped them on his jeans. He shouldn’t be nervous. This wasn’t something drastic. Just making dinner. That was it. Nothing to be concerned about.

Apart from burning down the house.

But, he wasn’t going to let his mind stray to thoughts such as those because they weren’t helping his situation at all.

Sam closed the door behind him when he got in, immediately ambling into the kitchen and setting all the bags on the table. Lisa peered at him from across the table, sipping her coffee and absently chewing on a healthy looking sandwich.

“That looks like a big shop,” she mumbled, pointing out the obvious.

“Yeah,” Sam replied, giving nothing else away. He unloaded the bags, throwing the plastic in the recycling bin before setting up a place at the counters. Slowly, he flipped the cookbook open, scanning the first page to check the contents, seeing if any of the names stood out to him at all.

Lisa said something else, though Sam ignored her. This was his task. He didn’t have to pay attention to the woman at all. As far he was concerned, he would do his thing, and she would do hers. There was no middle point. They don’t start up a random conversation half-way through his process. They just _be._

Sam turned several pages until he reached the dish that he wanted to make. He had a lot of ingredients. More than enough for everyone around the table. Enough for a lot more, really. Maybe he over spent? Not that he really cared. It would all be worth it in the end to see his brother’s face when he got home to the smell of someone else making dinner for a change.

Granted, it might turn out horrible and look like an alien stumbled into the kitchen and threw up in the stainless steel pot, but it was the thought that counted.

That’s what Sam kept telling himself.

He filled the pot with water and switched on the hob, leaving it there to boil as he repeatedly read through the instructions in front of him, scrunching his brows up in thought.

At the end of the table, Lisa smiled down at her food. She figured that Sam was making dinner or something. And not just for himself, what with all the ingredients he had spread out all over the place. She could tell that cooking wasn’t something the younger Winchester did very often. She was there if he wanted to ask for any help, not that he looked like he wanted to say anything to her at this point.

Having left the water to boil for quite some time, Sam started chopping and chucking things into the pot, stirring it round, leaving the wooden spoon to rest on the side. He didn’t know why. Just that he’d seen Dean do it a lot, and decided that that was probably what people were supposed to do when cooking.

* * *

 

Dean pressed his hands against the sink in the bathroom attached to his office. Anger was flaring through his body, and his muscles were repeatedly flexing under his purple dress shirt. He was at work, busying himself. That should be enough to keep him away from _those_ thoughts. Nothing seemed to quell the aggression. Gritting his teeth and bearing it didn’t seem to be working at all.

Employees asked him questions he didn’t want to answer. Not now, not ever. He didn’t feel like speaking to anyone. Not for a while, at least. Maybe when he took control of himself. His feelings. His reactions and his poisonous attitude.

If he continued like he was, probability was going to start drifting. He couldn’t allow that. Really, he just needed to suck it up and buy another bottle of whiskey on the way home. It made only the slightest bit of difference when Sam was around. He’d have to drink in his study this time around. No time for Sam’s questions or barely subtle looks in his direction.

There was a hard knock at the door, along with a familiar voice checking to see if he was okay. He made a joke about having a dump and turned the sinks on, playing it off as though he’d just finished, so now he was washing his hands.

The voice called back saying they would wait for him to finish, to which he said nothing. He knew who was outside. He didn’t really want to talk to them. Not when he was feeling this pissed over something that he should let go. He didn’t see that happening any time soon, though.

He unlocked the door and slid through the gap, regarding the man for a second before resuming his seat, offering a chair if need be. The man waved his hand dismissively and Dean gave him a look that said get on with it.

“You mentioned over the phone that you were planning on asking your brother to work for you,” he relayed, rolling back the sleeve on his left arm to glance at his watch. “If you get him in soon, I can administer the training—“

“I’ll train him. Cas, why did you have to come here to talk to me about this?”

Castiel shrugged. “Selfish reasons. I wanted to see if you were okay.”

“Well, I’m fine, so—“

“There has been talk here, there and everywhere about how your mood went from happy to sad after you came back from your self-appointed vacation,” Castiel pointed out, eyeing the older man passively.

Dean narrowed his eyes. “It’s none of your concern, or theirs, okay?” He wasn’t prepared to deal with this. He didn’t want to talk about any of this. They were never going to find out what was truly bothering him. None of them would quit their job. The money was fantastic, and they needed it to support themselves, but they would never look at him the same way ever again, and he wasn’t sure he could handle that.

“Dean, you are my friend. It does not matter to me that your upset is causing gossip to spread all over the place. I’m worried about you,” he admitted, starting to see what everyone else had been talking about. He asked a couple of people at the other building—the ones that were just transferred there, and they all said the same thing regarding Dean’s foul mood.

“This isn’t something I can discuss with you. Well, I could, but I sure as hell don’t want to, so can we drop this?” Dean bristled, contemplating returning home early just so he could avoid this.

“Why can you not—“

“ _Drop it,_ Cas! Please?”

“Is this about Sam? Your younger brother?”

Dean’s head snapped up. “No,” he lied, typing aimlessly, distracting himself from the conversation topic.

“That will be a yes then,” Castiel observed, finally accepting that offered seat. He rung his hands. “I, uh.” Typically, Castiel said whatever was on his mind. Socially, he wasn’t very advanced. So he didn’t know what might set someone off. Even still, the things he’d overheard over the years when Dean crashed out in his office, and he let himself in… It wasn’t something you hear every day, but he had to figure it had something to do with Dean’s mood.

“Look, Dean…”

“What?” he snapped, done with his friend grasping at straws.

Castiel lowered his head, releasing a long sigh. “I know about your feelings toward your younger brother…”

Dean’s whole body froze, his heart hammering in his chest. He couldn’t move. Honestly, right now he didn’t know if he was breathing. Everything felt like a black hole was sucking in the expanse of the room, leaving him torn to pieces and spread out between different universes… How the _hell_ had Castiel found out about his dirty little secret? This couldn’t be happening to him! He’d told no one in his entire existence! No one had known! He’d made sure of that. It wasn’t something you hear every day and he understood that. He knew it wasn’t normal…

When Castiel looked up to see his boss completely freaking out, he held up his hands. “It is okay, Dean. It is definitely not a normal thing, but nevertheless it is what you want. And, right now, it is the thing that has you upset, so I think you should address the issue with your brother—“

“Are you out of your mind? First of all, how the fuck did you even know that, and second—I already left Sam once because of this… I will not let the same thing happen again!” he yelled, throwing his keyboard against the wall, breathing deep as the tiles clattered on the floor. He’d have to pick up a new one. It didn’t matter. They didn’t put a dent in his wallet.

Castiel flinched from the action, though otherwise remained subdued. “A few years ago, you went through this stage where you would talk in your sleep when you fell asleep at work. I overheard you talking about a Sam, and how much you loved him. And the things you were apparently doing in that dream were far from plutonic, so I kind of figured…” There wasn’t much else for him to say. That was what he had heard. Dean had asked him for information, and that was all he could give on the subject.

“True love is mutual, Dean. Maybe he feels the same way, but you are deluding yourself into thinking you are the only one who has crossed that line,” Castiel suggested, getting up from the chair. He offered Dean one last look before he left the room, leaving the boss to simmer in his anger.

He’d been sleep-talking? What the hell? Why did he have to fall asleep at his chair, in ear shot of his second in command? This was ridiculous. And Castiel said that Sam might be feeling the same way? He definitely had a funny way of showing it. Dean’s been around Sam enough. He knew when he was attracted to someone, and he most certainly was not attracted to Dean.

Face reality here. They’re brothers. It’s wrong, and it will never be right. Dean just had to accept that and get over it. There was nothing more he could do. He’d have to lose himself in Lisa for the time being. Distract himself from Sam. That’s what he needed to do.

That was the only thing that might bring some normalcy back into his life.

* * *

 

To say he was feeling a bit proud of himself was an understatement! After having spent the whole day working on dinner, Sam succeeded in putting together something that looked edible! It smelled good, too, which was the best thing. Even Lisa made a comment about the aroma. Sam was feeling pretty damn good about it.

The best thing was that Dean would be back soon, so he could finally show the man all the hard effort he put in today to make him something nice for his return! If it turned out well, then Sam would cook more often. Just, take less time to get everything prepared, and less than four tries to get it right.  
Every time he messed up, Lisa had offered to help him, and he refused her. Saying that he could handle it on his own, that this was something only he wished to take care of—not her. He didn’t want any of her help. He’d of been happier if she didn’t spend most of the time in the kitchen while he was cooking.

The door closing brought a smile to his face. He bounded out of the kitchen, catching Dean’s eye as he stood in the doorway. “Hey, I made dinner! Come grab a seat!” And just like that, he headed back into the kitchen, serving up portions, almost humming to himself as he made the finishing touches.

Dean couldn’t believe that his brother had made dinner. And he’d done a good job of it from the sensation crawling up his nose. Couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. He hadn’t really been in the mood to cook tonight, so this was a bonus.

He walked into the kitchen, following the smell. Ben and Lisa were already at the table, waiting patiently for Sam to serve up the food. Sam had plates on the side, using a ladle to fill several bowls up.

A grin graced the man’s face. He was feeling like an iron weight was permanently pressing into his shoulders, but this was really nice. Dean moved around the table, giving Lisa a kiss and a hug, which she leaned into, breathing in his scent.

Sam turned his head and scowled. Snapping back to the front, he gripped the handle tightly, unsure of his sudden heightened emotions. All he could think about was how he’d rather that woman’s arms not be around his brother right this second, or ever.

The embrace ended shortly after, Dean taking his usual seat. He chanced a glance at the brunet, noticing the sudden tension in his back. Well, cooking could be very stressful, so he had to figure that was the reason.

Giving himself a second to cool down, Sam schooled his expression. He made this dinner for Dean. This dinner was primarily for his brother. But she lived here, too, and it would have been rude not to serve her anything. But he had to remember that his brother worked hard, and that’s why he spent his entire day making this special.

Releasing a breath, Sam grinned and moved the plates over to the table, setting Dean’s down first, almost flushing when his brother complemented on how _good_ it smelled. He then placed Ben’s and Lisa’s, then finally took his own seat, grabbing his knife and fork from the side.

“Thank you, Sammy,” Dean remarked sincerely, tucking into his meal.

Sam smiled, looking away. “I made it because you work really hard all the time, but still do _all_ of the cooking, so I thought I’d save you the trouble for once,” he admitted, stressing the all and really hoping that Lisa would pick up on it. Unfortunately, she was totally clueless, simply thanking him for the dinner.

“Thanks, uncle Sam!” Ben cheered.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, not half as affected by their gratitude, as he was by his older brother.

Dean thought about what Sam said for a few beats—Castiel’s words of _wisdom_ lingering on his mind. Could that even be a possibility? No, it couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. Siblings don’t randomly fall in love with each other. It didn’t work that way, and things weren’t going to suddenly change to make him happy.

“That’s really nice of you, Sam,” he rebuked, shoveling another piece into his mouth. He really was enjoying the food. Sam must have worked _hard._ The brunet wasn’t much of a cook, so color Dean impressed.

“Anything for you, Dean,” Sam jested, dimples flashing and all.

Dean tried not to choke on his food from the word _anything._ What, was Sam trying to kill him all of a sudden? Geez.

 


	13. Your Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam thinks about the past, and Dean offers him a job.

The dinner was a complete success. Dean loved the pie afterwards, eating it in the way that he used to at _home_ when they were still kids. Sam remembered the terrible habits of chomping down on the pastry and rolling it around in his mouth the entire time, enjoying the taste, while vocalizing how much he liked pie. Sam couldn’t help but laugh as he thought back to those times when Dean went without. He’d get all worked up over nothing, and start on anything that moved.

He would never start on the brunet, however.

Sam made his way out of his room, wondering what he was going to do today. He was already done with exploring this place. There wasn’t anything truly exciting about it, other than the library. He kind of wanted to avoid that place for the time being, less he run into that smarmy asshole who just desired another piece of him.

Lucifer had Sam. That was done now. It didn’t have to happen again. Sam would makes sure that it didn’t. The sex was okay—it was just Lucifer that was a bit of a weirdo, saying odd things to him in the bedroom that he’d never heard before.

All in all the experience wasn’t something that he wanted a repeat of anytime soon. His mind was too focused on Dean being quiet with him. They’d just gone back to being brothers again, and now the older man wanted to start distancing himself? Sam wasn’t going to let that happen. He couldn’t. His heart couldn’t take another one of those. He couldn’t go down that route again. No, it was too painful. Something worse than anything physically inflicted.

And yes, Sam had gotten into fights after his brother left. He became violent. He lashed out at small details. He became like the very man who abandoned him. The only thing that didn’t change about him were his test scores. They were flawless. Teachers constantly praised his _gift._ Sam could’ve cared less at the time. Their words meant nothing to him. All he wanted for the rest of his childhood was his big brother back.

John had tried to put him in counselling sessions. Sam didn’t turn up to a single one. They had been free, so he knew he wasn’t wasting his father’s money. Talking to someone wasn’t going to help him at the time. If anything, it only would have made him feel worse if he had to relive that awful night more times than he did when he went to sleep.

That car haunted his dreams for such a long time. Made him feel sick to his stomach. Sometimes, he did end up emptying his dinner into the toilet, disgusted with himself for his actions—for allowing something to get to him so badly that he couldn’t keep down the contents of his stomach.

Dean didn’t know all this. Sam couldn’t tell him. Revenge wasn’t something on Sam’s mind. He knew that if he leaked how much he actually went through after Dean left, his brother would never be able to forgive himself.

_Or maybe he wouldn’t care at all and just leave you all over again._

No! That won’t ever happen again! Not after all of this.

Sam idly scraped butter onto a piece of toasted bread, being careful not to dig the metal in too far and pierce it. He wasn’t that hungry, but food would at least be a distraction form the thoughts running through his head.

“Mornin’,” Dean muttered tiredly, leaning against Sam to reach for the cupboard the younger man was situated in front of. He felt warmth shoot through him, and an urge to settle against his brother’s chest had his stomach doing backflips.

Years ago, he would and Dean would hold him close. Sam enjoyed contact back then. More than the normal person. And Dean’s arms were his preferred place to be, either back to chest, or sleeping along his brother’s front, soothed by the sound of Dean’s even breathing.

Now, he didn’t know how Dean would react. He remembered the night that he forgave Dean for what he had done, that he fell asleep in Dean’s lap like the old times. Dean’d seemed reluctant, but nevertheless allowed Sam to sleep there the whole night.

Lisa must have thought it was a weird sight when she came downstairs the next morning. Sam didn’t care. He finally had his brother back. He would use alcohol as an excuse for some of it, though, considering he hadn’t been that touchy-feely with someone since Kayden.

“Morning,” Sam finally replied, missing the contact as soon as it was gone. He really wanted to ask Dean to pull him against him and stand there for several minutes. He felt so deprived of his brother’s touch. Now that he was here, it didn’t seem that far away, and yet it was.

_So far._

Dean immerged from the fridge with some eggs, asking if Sam wanted one absentmindedly, as he cracked the first on the side of the frying pan, spilling the yolk into the center. Sam declined the offer, mentioning that he was fine with toast for breakfast.

“So, I was wondering if you’d be happy to start working soon?” Dean inquired, flattening out the eggs with a spatula—two were in the pan now. He glanced over his shoulder at the younger man, eagerly waiting for his response.

“Work, where?”

Shuffling the pan around, Dean brought his focus back to his task, speaking to the eggs. “The plan was for you to work for my company, but if you’d prefer to work someplace else, that’s fine, too,” he supplied, finding the hiss of the eggs irritating at this time in the morning. Not that it wasn’t every other morning—not a morning person.

Sam weighed his options. Working would give him something to do, so there was that. Working at his brother’s company meant that he’d get to see Dean more often, and wouldn’t have to wait up for him every night. He’d be driving to and from work. This was perfect. There was no way he was going to turn down this offer—he didn’t even have to go for an interview, since Dean owned the place.

“Sure,” he accepted, biting into his food. He forgot to turn the heat setting on the toaster down, so it was burnt. Otherwise, it was okay, and will do for now.

“Great,” Dean replied, scooping up the eggs and placing them on a fresh plate. “We leave in an hour, so go get ready after you’ve finished with your breakfast.”

Sam does so, finishing his toast in under three minutes. He washed his hands at the sink, then proceeded up the stairs to shower and get changed. When Dean walked into his room, his hand went to his face. He didn’t look pleased, and Sam was about to find out why.

“I run a company, Sammy—not _Hot Topic._ We wear suits and ties in my company. The only days you get to be causal are _never_. So, follow me, Marilyn Manson.”

The younger brother’s eyebrow twitched. He could hardly see how black jeans and a black v-neck was anything close to Marilyn Manson. Then again, he remembered how many teasing nicknames he got for the silliest things when they were younger.

A personal favorite was Captain Obvious.

Dean rummaged through his wardrobe, pulling out clothes that would fit his brother. He selected a black suit-jacket, with black slacks, a brown belt, with a dark brown dress shirt, and polished black shoes.

“There, and wear the burgundy tie. We’ll get you your own set of clothes tomorrow, but for now we gotta get ready and head to work. Meet me downstairs in ten minutes or I’m leaving your ass behind,” Dean instructed, his face revealing that it wasn’t up for discussion.

Sam went on his way, already knowing he wasn’t going to like wearing a suit.

 

 

 


	14. Through The Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's first day at work.

“Fantastic. And will you be needing support when starting up your new business? We run a support program here that can assist you with anything you need. Here, we look after our customers, and I look forward to hearing about your progress. Nice chatting with you, Mr. McCoy—yeah, you too. Have a good day now,” Sam said into the speaker, pulling the device from his head when the line went dead. He hadn’t finished his hours for the day, but Dean wouldn’t stop staring at him, and it was starting to make him feel like he wasn’t doing a very good job, even if everyone here insisted that he was picking it up much faster than anyone else. They also threw in that it was in his blood, if his brother’s reputation was anything to go by.

Pretty soon, he was going to say something. He couldn’t really discern the look Dean was giving him. He knew Dean was busy, so he stopped himself from knocking on the door and talking to him. It didn’t mean that he couldn’t _clearly_ see his older brother through the glass watching his every move. Sam wasn’t sure if it was unsettling, or oddly flattering.

He gestured at Dean to come out here. The man was by his side in under a minute, asking him how everything was going. Sam revealed that he just made his third deal, which had Dean’s face splitting into a wide grin, and an unquenchable desire to wrap Sam up in his arms and squeeze… And just hold him there.

They talked about Sam’s pitch. Dean role-played being a customer. His feedback was that Sam didn’t have to mention the support program to everyone. They could take it as condescending or snide, and possibly lose the deal just with that one move. Sam was happy that he no longer had to mention that. He could see where Dean was coming from, as he felt like a douchebag just bringing that subject up to the customer.

“Three deals already and it’s only your first day. You’re doing well, Sammy.”

After the welcomed praise, Dean heads back to his own station, leaving Sam to answer his next call. Some of the business ideas that these people had were kind of ludicrous. Others had Sam nearly on the edge of his seat in anticipation. He didn’t know all the details. He just had to make sure that they sign with them. Winchester’ makes a high profit off these businesses, even if they don’t make it to the big times.

Sam tried to get his head around why Dean’s ambition was to have something like this. It would never have been the first thought Sam had about his brother wanting to make something of his life. But Dean had. Sam was… proud of him. It was odd to think on those lines, but it was no less true. Not that Sam didn’t think his big brother would amount to anything—Dean was a great guy, and the more people that figured that out, the better.

The work was tiring at times. Especially when the customers could barely get the words out about their business idea. They called them, so they should be ready with their pitch. Dean had told him during the training that they don’t turn any offers down. Simply because the customers have to go through a system before they can even make it to this point. Sam felt smug that he got this position without so much as lifting a finger. In the back of his mind, he knew that Dean wouldn’t have offered him the job if he didn’t think Sam was worthy of it.

The notion triggered a warm heat in his stomach.

Having Dean’s belief in him was a feeling that he couldn’t quite explain.

Landing his fourth deal of the day, Sam turned his head when he felt eyes on him. His left ‘brow arched, signaling that he noticed. The unfamiliar face flushed, moving out of their seat to amble over to him. They stopped a several steps away, a soft smile edging on to their face.

“Are you the boss’s brother?”

Sam blanched. “Uh, yeah.”

“That smile came back, so I kind of figured…”

_That_ smile? Sam didn’t understand what the stranger was referring to. “Oh…” Is all he managed, hesitant fingers playing with the back of his hair. Why did the room suddenly feel so small?

“Yeah. About a month ago the boss was nicer to everyone. He actually joined us on lunch breaks. Cracked jokes with us… He looked… Happy.”

“Really?”

The person continued, paying close attention to the changes on the young man’s face. “Mhm. He told us that he finally had his little brother back. I imagined you’d be, uh, _smaller.”_

He felt the need to laugh, but shoved it down because he was intrigued.

“I wanted to thank you, I guess. Boss never interacted with us much other than advising us on the calls. Then when you came back into his life, he became a whole new person,” they muttered, drawing a circle on the desk with their finger. “Then, a few weeks back, he stopped talking to any of us. Before his holiday, he was all smiles and jokes. Once he got back, he went back to the way he used to be with us. Honestly, today is the first time I’ve seen him smile since then.” When finished, the employee walked back to their desk, chucking a final gratifying smile over their shoulder.

Sam wasn’t sure what to think about all that. It was flattering, to know that even while Dean was aware that Sam hadn’t been happy about staying with him, he still showed his glee at work, out of view of the younger man. Dean knowing that Sam was going to live with him had made Dean _happy…_

He wanted to go to his brother’s office and tell him that he was happy, too. Maybe get the reason why Dean recently started drinking more than he ate, if Sam being around him kept a smile on his face. But, that was Dean’s business. He could tell Sam if he truly wanted to. Some things are better left unsaid. Although, Sam’s positive that anything Dean told Sam, at this point, wouldn’t send him running.

In Dean’s office, he couldn’t keep the grin off his face. He employed Sam because he knew he could handle the job. He had the Winchester charm, after all. There was some selfish reasons for hiring Sam that he wasn’t going to discuss. Having Sam here meant that he could keep an eye on him without the younger man getting suspicious or feeling smothered. This way, Dean could keep douchebags like that Lucifer guy away from Sam. He had Sam set up right outside his window on purpose. He could watch Sam. He could observe everything around him. At the end of the work day, Dean would take Sam home, they’d have dinner with Lisa and Ben, and then they would repeat the routine the next day.

It was selfish. Dean was aware of that completely. He tried just the other night to be intimate with Lisa again. He really tried. Several times. Nothing happened. There was no spark there that should be. They’d been together for years. If anything, right now he sees her as a woman living at his house that he had sex with on occasion.

The one that he truly wanted to be with… Is through the glass.

_Through the glass…_

 


	15. I Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Brothers get a bit sentimental and reminiscent.

Everything was looking up. Sam had a job now. He’d been spending time with his older brother a lot more. No one else joined them on lunch breaks. It was like Dean didn’t want either of them to be seen with anyone else other than themselves. In a way it made Sam feel special. On the other hand, he was looking to make some friends here. There was no way he was going to be able to do that with Dean breathing down his neck all the time.

Somehow, Dean had managed to set up his schedule so that his and Sam’s lunch hours would align. Obvious as it may be, not a single person said anything about it. In fact, they seemed happy that Dean shared his lunch time only with his younger brother. When he thought about it, Sam really could care less. The main reason he accepted the job from Dean was so that he could spend more time with him—see the man in the work place, and figure out how he became such a success.

He was beginning to see why a little more with every day. Dean’s seminars on satisfying the customers were insightful, to say the least. The whole room of employees just hung on his every word. Sam can tell that most of the women there had eyes for his brother. Understandable, as Dean was an attractive man in the opinion of many. Sam wasn’t sure if Dean even paid attention to that, though. Most guys would eat up all of that attention—Dean could seem to care less about it. Maybe he was just so dedicated to his job that office crushes were the last thing on his list of things to even acknowledge?

Sam had been getting attention from one of the male receptionists, if the barely concealed long-winded smiles and lack of focus on anyone else whenever Sam was within watching distance was anything to go by. He wasn’t half-bad looking, if Sam were being completely honest. Nevertheless, Sam was there to work, not hookup with the staff. What would Dean think of him if he started slutting it up? Not very good, Sam suspected. And he couldn’t deal with something like that. Even though he refused to show it off so much, Sam admired Dean’s opinion above everyone else in the entire world.

Currently, they were across the street for lunch. Dean ordered a big burger for himself, along with fries that should be illegal. So much grease and fat, Sam’s surprised that they aren’t known as the heart-attack instigating fries. Dean’s always been a highly gross eater, not caring if his mouth is stuffed full of burger as he rattled on about his plan for the company in a few weeks-time, the margin that he’d planned to hit by then, so on and so forth. Still, it was nice to know that some things would never change.

Dean swallowed and wiped a napkin across his lips. “What’s up, Sammy? You’ve barely touched your rabbit food,” he observed, dipping a fry in barbeque sauce.

“Nothing serious.” They fall into a silent staring competition that Sam was definitely going to win because Dean could never keep his mouth shut for that long.

“Just tell me,” Dean demanded, sounding concerned.

Sam leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s just nice to know that some things will never change with you,” he explained, motioning to the state of Dean’s hands and the selection of fries held between his lips. He laughed as Dean made a show of crunching up the fries and eating like a pig. Memories started flying to the surface, and soon they were regaling each other with stories from their past. Each time one ended, another began just as quickly.

“And then you went up to Dad, red paint all over your hands that looked a lot like blood. So Dad spots you, nearly has a heart attack. Then he’s shaking you, demanding an explanation, while you’ve got this adorably confused look on your face. So I walk off to where you came from and see the tub of paint, bring it out to Dad and reassure him that he doesn’t have a psycho for a son,” Dean retold, face lighting up as he recalled the time when Sam was so young and innocent.

“Adorably confused, Dean?” Sam teased.

“Shut up,” Dean retorted, grinning despite himself.

“Those were the days.”

Dean paused before he took a sip. “What? You sound like an old man, saying something like that,” he mumbled, pressing his lips to the rim of the glass, tracking the subtle shifting of Sam’s eyes as he clearly reflects on their past—how happy they used to be.

“I just don’t understand what went wrong. To this day, I ask myself what I could have done differently to stop you from leaving. I would have given anything not to watch you get in your car and just drive away,” Sam reminisced, dropping his head. “I mean, I know that you avenged me or something—that you were scared what might have happened to you if you’d of stayed… But, Dean, I—“

Dean wasn’t about to tell Sam that he actually wanted to take Sam with him. He wasn’t about admit that those hours he spent in his room thinking about what to do, the most prominent thought in his head was just going for it—taking that leap and kissing Sam full on the lips, expressing everything that he’d been feeling for all of those years. And, if Sam would have kissed him back—accepted him, Dean would have convinced Sam to tag along with him to wherever they may go. Fortunately, he digressed and hightailed it out of there before he did something that could have potentially ruined any chance of him _ever_ getting in contact with Sam again.

Reflectively, Dean had to give his little brother something. _Something_ to prove to him that he never stopped loving Sam, as much as he willed himself to.

“I love you. I would kill for you. I would die for you. I would tear down the entire world looking for you if you were missing,” Dean began, taking a risk and laying his hand flat over the top of Sam’s. “Really, Sam. You have to believe me this one time that if I could have stayed, I would have. Hell, if you asked me, I would have taken you with me. But you and I both know that wouldn’t have been a good idea at the time. You weren’t ready for that,” Dean continued, rubbing his thumb over Sam’s wrist and completely disregarding how right it felt. Sam’s focus was unsteady, body seemingly detached from his mind as he goes through the processing system of all these new revelations. Why didn’t he ask Dean if he could go with him? His brother was the most important person in the entire world to Sam, now and then. Granted, at the time he was practically stuck to the ground, unable to form sentences or kick his brain into prying the front door open and putting all his efforts into chasing down that car. Dean was right. At that time, he just wasn’t ready for a life on the road. For all he knew, Dean had a hard time for the first few years or something. Not many places to go—Dean didn’t have a lot of friends, not that Sam knew about, considering the man spent most of his time with Sam.

Silence fell over them, hands still connected. Neither of them minding the comforting heat. Dean couldn’t help battling the shocking revelation that the moment between them was far greater than any moment he had ever shared with anyone—even Lisa. And all they were doing was partially holding hands. Yet, there was no place he would rather be at this time. Sam was having trouble coming to terms with how peaceful he felt. He hadn’t felt this relaxed since the last time he fell asleep in Dean’s lap. Not the time that they went out drinking. This was referring to the night before Dean up and left.

“I love you too, Dean.”

Dean grinned.

 

 


End file.
